It's All About Perspective xx Going Grey 5
by Kiristeen
Summary: The plot thickens, and while Harry tries to free himself from the headmasters plans, Draco tries to use the curse against his own father. All the while, Harry begins to learn what it truly means to be a leader.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

AN: My internet, right now is extremely limited, but I will answer questions posted in the reviews, next chapter. Thank you all _so_ much for reviewing, and keeping interest while I was stuck offline this past couple weeks! You've all made my heart fly!

Enjoy!

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Chapter One  
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Lucius Malfoy frowned as he sat at his desk. With everything required of him at the ministry, just to keep his lord's activities there as quiet as possible, family business was piling up. Unfortunately, at the moment, he couldn't let the ministry angle slide. As much as his lord wanted to create confusion and fear in the populace in general, he wanted to keep the real work, his infiltration of the ministry, quiet until it was far too late for anyone to do anything about it.

He shook his head. At the moment, he hated coming to his study, knowing he would only be able to get a tiny fraction of his work completed before something _else_ would require his immediate attention. Sometimes, it seemed to him, that he was the only one doing anything for the dark lord - at least anything remotely successful. He sighed. There was nothing for it, however. He would do what he needed to, to make sure he and his family maintained their standings - and their lives.

It certainly didn't help that his son had chosen _now_ to become fractious, rebelliously trying to assert his independence. _Stay at Hogwarts for break, indeed!_ Why couldn't the boy have chosen last year to get ideas, to get ambitious? Reports on the Potter brat's activities last winter break would have been invaluable to their lord. This year, the desire would interfere with plans already set in motion - something the boy _should_ realize already. This Yule was the day chosen for his son to be marked, and as much as having the information would be valuable, their lord was not one to be put off by . . . independent schemes.

A family owl swooping through the open window distracted him from his work yet again and his frown deepened as it swooped over his desk, dropping the latest missive from his son before completing its arc and diving back out the window.

Feeling put upon, and wondering just what his son would be writing home about this close to coming here himself, Lucius braced himself for whatever anger inducing plot the boy might be hatching now and opened the letter.

_

* * *

Father,_

While I understand that family obligations are quite important, I feel it is in our best interests at this time to remain at Hogwarts over the coming break. I'm certain you, and other interested parties, will understand that I do this with the best of intentions and loyalty to the Malfoy family name and **traditions**.

Please give my regards to mother and I will see the two of you at the end of the year as always.

Sincerely,  
Draco Lucius Malfoy 

* * *

  
_Why that **insolent** brat!_

Furious, Lucius instantly crumpled the dismissive letter from his son and struggled to bring himself under some semblance of control. This was absolutely the last thing he needed right now. How dare-

Lucius' thoughts stopped and he carefully uncrumpled the letter, rereading it. There it was. His son was trying to tell him something. The question was, what? What traditions was he referring to? It couldn't be in reference to his upcoming marking, otherwise the boy would be coming home as scheduled. His frown turning as much thoughtful as angry, Lucius stood abruptly and strode out of his study. He had a son to visit and demand answers from. That boy was coming home for Yule, one way or another. His recalcitrant son was not going to be the reason he next experienced a round of crucio for having disappointed their lord. Didn't the brat realize that the family curse could drive him round the twist if he didn't comply with the demands it made on him?

Stopping only long enough to make certain he was presentable, Lucius strode into the only room in the home that could be apparated from. The moment he stepped within the wards of the room, he spun in place, focusing solely on his destination for the brief moment it took to apparate. Between one breath and the next, he was no longer at the manor and was, instead, standing outside the gates of Hogwarts, his ama mater.

The moment he stepped inside his old school, Lucius knew something was incredibly wrong. Power swept over him in surprising waves and it was only the iron control over his public reactions that kept him from spinning around to make sure the dark lord hadn't somehow managed to walk into the school behind him. Despite every ounce of common sense and logic telling him that it was impossible, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he should be kneeling before he found himself crucioed for not paying proper homage.

As he sucked in a deep, cleansing breath through clenched teeth, Lucius directed his attention toward that power. His instincts dimmed to the back of his mind as he analyzed what he was sensing. The power was _not_ from the dark lord. It was . . . more. It was wild, only partially controlled. He gasped as a shocking realization swept over him. There was a _child_ here that had more raw power than the dark lord.

_How?_

Lucius knew only too well just how much the dark lord had done to increase his own, already impressive power. It should have been utterly impossible for anyone else to come even close. Unfortunately, he was sensing it now. What he couldn't figure out, was how a _student_ could manage such rituals under the very nose of the insanely affable, yet annoyingly near-omniscient headmaster of Hogwarts.

_. . . .I do this with the best of intentions and loyalty to the Malfoy family name and **traditions**._

"You stupid child," Lucius muttered under his breath as he strode forward, once again focused on finding his wayward son. At least now that he understood just what was motivating the boy, his rage was dissipating. Apparently, Draco hadn't yet internalized the fact that magical strength wasn't all there was to true power. No child - no matter his raw magic - stood a chance of equally the dark lord's power structure, and that was the crux of the matter. Thankfully, all it would take to put his son back on track would be a few quietly spoken words, and the dark lord would never have to know how close the Malfoy heir came to throwing his own life away.

Lucius was simply grateful that he'd honed his ability to sense the strongest magical power to a fine art. If he hadn't, he might not have known exactly what the problem was before confronting his son. Now that he did know, he could relax somewhat, and allow himself to enjoy the feeling of returning to the school. He'd had some good times here, times when he'd been the monarch of his world. He'd ruled Slytherin house and not even his head of house'd had more influence there. A small part of him missed that time, even if he hadn't had any true power. It had felt like it, and that had been enough at the time.

Running across a scowling Severus, pulled him from his reminiscences. He arched an elegant eyebrow at the man, even as the other Slytherin noticed him.

"What are you doing here, Lucius?" Severus asked, well, snarled really.

Lucius didn't take it personally. He knew the man was in foul mood at the best of times, and the middle of a school week would never be the best of times for his bitter comrade.

"I have need to speak to my son, Severus," he replied smoothly. "I would appreciate the use of your office for our meeting."

"And does your son know of your visit?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, he doesn't," he answered, not elaborating on the reason for his visit, despite the fact that he knew very well that Severus was obliquely asking for more information.

Eyes narrowing at him, Severus nodded once, sharply, and abruptly turned around heading the opposite direction he had originally been heading. Snapping his fingers as he stalked forward, Severus called a house elf to them.

"What can-"

"Find Mr. Malfoy and tell him his presence is required in my office now."

"Yes, Professor Potions Master, Sir."

"Go!"

Lucius kept his amusement at the interaction to himself. Severus was ever impatient at the social niceties - not that _he_ had ever wasted such things on house elves, but Severus took it to a whole new level of impatience. At least the filthy thing had disappeared quickly, something his old servant, Dobby, had never managed. That thing had always irritated him beyond measure. He'd loathed the cringing, cowtowing menace for years before the Potter brat had tricked him into freeing the crawling disaster. He'd never really delved too deeply into just why he hated the thing, his very real sense of self told him he wouldn't like the answer one bit. It wasn't that he hated _all_ his house elves, just the ones that cringed and crawled every time a wizard came near. His skin crawled every time he was witness to the abasement - something he didn't understand, since that was the rightful reaction of such lowly, undeserving creatures.

Severus silently led them into his office and Lucius barely restrained himself from sneering in distaste as the decor impressed itself on him. How the man could stand lining his office with revolting body parts never failed to disconcert him. He almost snorted. That was the point, he supposed. From a student's point of view, the room was probably the stuff of their nightmares. Given that perspective, Lucius supposed he could actually admire the move - even if it did make him distinctly uncomfortable also.

"What could possibly be important enough to drag you all the way to Hogwarts only three days before winter break, Lucius?"

Lucius turned an imperious look towards his comrade. "A family matter of some urgency," he replied, revealing absolutely nothing.

Severus snorted his obvious disdain for the uninformative answer, his eyes narrowing assessingly.

Lucius found he had to wonder just what the look was about. It was blindingly obvious what he was here to see the boy about, so just why was Severus so . . . nosy. It was really quite unlike the man. His own assessment, however, was cut short by short, sharp raps on the office door.

"Come."

Draco entered immediately upon hearing the command. "Afternoon, Sir," the boy began, only to cut himself off, eyes widening just the briefest moment before schooling his expression to neutral blandness. "Father," he acknowledged.

Lucius was glad to see the boy didn't bother stating the obvious fact that he hadn't expected to see him. At least _some_ of the lessons he'd taught had taken hold. He returned his son's nod and waited for Severus to discreetly remove himself for their discussion. When that didn't happen, he turned his attention to the man. "I would like a few moments of your time when I've finished speaking with Draco," he said, knowing his point of wanting privacy would be made without actually having to ask the man to leave his own office - something that would be appallingly rude on his part. What he didn't understand was why the man hadn't given it to them automatically.

"Sir, there is a rather . . . embarrassing issue I need to discuss with my father," Draco began, startling Lucius. "If you would do me the honor of allowing us the use of your office, I would be most appreciative."

_So, he _can_ be subtle,_ Lucius thought proudly. _There is hope for him yet._

Severus nodded sharply and strode from the room.

Lucius eyed the head of Slytherin house as the door closed behind him, one thought repeating inside his mind. Why did he not respond to my request, then turn around and respond to Draco's? Only two answers came to mind, and he didn't like either one. The situation would bear watching, he thought, until he knew which one - if either - was the case. For now, putting that conundrum out of his mind, he returned his attention to his son. Certain of his ability to speak freely now that the door was closed and the wards he well knew surrounded the office were in place, he began the necessary re-education of his son.

"It seems, Draco, that I must once again revisit some of your lessons."

"Which ones are those, Father?" Draco asked, his expression gratifyingly blank.

Schooling himself, refusing to allow his son's deliberate obtuseness to enrage him, Lucius smirked at the boy. "You know very well the lessons I refer to. There is more to an individual's power than raw magical talent."

Draco nodded. "Yes, there is," he agreed readily, his expression changing not at all. "I take it you've seen him."

Lucius frowned mentally. "No," he replied curtly. "I have, however, felt his power. I sensed it the moment I stepped inside the school."

Well, _that_ got a reaction.

"It's an ability you will be able to hone as you grow into your talents," he allowed. "It is merely a refinement of the curse."

Draco nodded once again, but volunteered no further information.

"Son, no amount of raw magic can equal the power structure that the dark lord has amassed over the last 50 years, surely you can see that."

"Yes, father. I have not based this decision solely on magical power. The curse itself would make sure of that, as you well know."

"Indeed it would," Lucius reluctantly admitted, "however, something I don't think you realize is that your . . . limited perception of the situation would _also_ affect how the curse interacts with you and those you come into contact with. I'm sure if you think this through logically, you will know I am right."

"I assure you, Father, I have thought this out. I've gone over it innumerable times since being slapped in the face with it. This is not what I would have chosen on my own. Being at odds with you is not . . . comfortable."

Only sheer will power kept Lucius from grinding his teeth in frustration. His son was deliberately making this conversation difficult. The natural tendency of a Slytherin to withhold extraneous information was all well and good, but was utterly unnecessary when dealing directly with family. That was also something he knew his son knew, which meant the brat was baiting him and he would not succumb to such childish attempts to control this encounter. Before he could wrest control of the situation back, however, his son surprised him.

Leaning forward, Draco shook his head. "I know you do not think much of my ability to reason this out, Father. Your presence here is proof enough of that, something I'd actually counted on."

In his shock, he couldn't quite keep complete control over his expression and felt an eyebrow shoot upward. It was the only physical reaction he allowed to escape, however.

"The person whose power you say you've sensed, also has a great deal of other influence, both social and political. Right now, his influence is mainly here at the school, of course, but his potential - _if_ encouraged in the right way - for both is . . . impressive."

"That is all well and good, Draco, but this 'future potential' you speak of will come to naught. The dark lord will succeed in his bid for power long before anyone at this school has the chance to even begin to build a decent power base."

Draco shook his head. "I disagree."

Lucius nearly growled, only barely restraining himself.

"Father, please, listen to me," Draco pleaded. "Politically, this person has Dumbledore's ear, has stood toe to toe with Fudge and come out on top. He has sycophants from three out of four houses. Socially, he has at least half the Hufflepuffs as friends, a third to half the Ravenclaws, and easily three quarters of the Gryffindors."

Lucius could feel his shock growing. _Who?_ He could think of no one who had that kind of power at such a young age. Children were notoriously fickle.

"He is _also_ head of line for two ancient pureblood lines. Properly taught, he would be a force to be reckoned with the moment he graduates and can take his place within the council."

"Who?" Lucius demanded.

"I cannot reveal that as yet, Father. If you'll think for just a moment, you'll know why."

"I am your father, Draco, and as such I demand that you tell me just who this . . . _paragon_ is."

"Tell me something, Father," Draco said, instead of properly answering, "would you, with the situation as it sits between us, reveal to me any plans of the dark lord's?"

Lucius frowned, snorting. "Of course not! I would not risk the fact that you may pass them on to this so-called paragon of yours."

"Precisely my point."

He did growl then. It wasn't that he couldn't see his son's point, because he could. Unfortunately, he was working at a handicap here. Without knowing precisely who his son was choosing to follow - _Thank Merlin it doesn't seem to be Dumbledore!_ - he couldn't marshall strong enough counter-arguments against his son's reasoning, and until he could, the curse would continue to point his son the wrong direction. He stood abruptly, knowing this conversation would only move in useless circles if they continued it now. He settled for issuing orders instead.

"You will come home for the holidays, Draco. I demand it as your father, as someone who cares about your wellbeing _and_, as your head of line."

Something flared in his son's eyes then, something Lucius could not interpret, something that worried him greatly. He could not, however, back down from his stance. It was his _duty_ to see to the welfare of his family and his heritage. He could not allow youthful follies to interfere in that - no matter how well reasoned they may seem to the youth in question. His son may defy his father - most teenagers did at one point or another. He may even scoff at someone caring about his well being, but he knew the consequences of defying the head of line. All well brought up purebloods did. It was something that simply wasn't done, not without unthinkable and unalterable consequences.

He swept out of the room without giving either of them a chance to say something they would both regret, not giving his son so much as a farewell or backward glance. He was confident of his son's obedience in this - if in almost nothing else.

It was only as he reached the entrance hall, adrenaline from the entire argument fading, that he slowed, a minute piece of the conversation coming back to haunt him.

_Your presence here is proof enough of that, **something I'd actually counted on**._

He slowed further, his thoughts running that odd comment over and over until an epiphany struck. His son had purposely drawn him here! The precocious brat had baited the trap until he'd fallen for it and come to the school. He gasped in a very uncomfortable mix of outrage and pride as he realized just why his son had done it. He'd fully intended to use the curse against his own father. It was a Slytherin move to the core and Lucius had to admit that it had been a good ploy. Too bad for the boy's confidence that it hadn't worked out the way he'd planned. Of course, that was a good lesson also, that no matter how well you plan; sometimes things just _don't_ go your way.

Lucius was almost at the exit, nearly clear of the discomforting wash of power when that power spiked suddenly. Snapping his head left, to where he knew the source was, he waited; though part of him was screaming at him to retreat before it was too late. He didn't, wanting to know just _who_ had so much influence over his son. _I have to know who it is,_ he firmly told the part of himself that wanted to flee, _in order to know how to counteract that influence._

He scoffed at himself, even as he thought the excuse. It was far more than that and he well knew it. He didn't like that someone else had that kind of influence at all and he wanted to take them apart for daring to take what was his.

Sure enough, several moments later he saw movement in the shadows of the recesses of the hallway leading to the headmaster's office. He gasped the moment he recognized who it was.

_Potter!_

Potter was angry, furious really, judging by the barely controlled power spinning out and around the boy.

Potter noticed him, sneered, and brushed past him without so much as a by your leave.

Every instinct he'd honed for the last 20 years screamed at him. and it was all he could do to remain on his feet. Rage and power do not end well for those around the angry wizard and in conditioned response he had nearly dropped to his knees automatically. Horrified by the very prospect, Lucius turned abruptly and all but raced from the school. It was only the shreds of what dignity his instincts had left him with that kept his _strategic_ withdrawal from being at a dead run. This was _not_ happening!

Apparating the moment he passed out of the school's protective wards, Lucius strode to his study and his stash of firewhiskey. He normally eschewed the stuff, but there were times that distinctly called for the strong bite of it - and now was one of those times. He downed two doubles before he allowed himself to think. Pouring himself a third, he sat, choosing the comfortable armchair near the fireplace.

He frowned, going back over the conversation with his son, adding in his new knowledge of who, exactly, had been discussed. Of course the Potter brat had a lot of influence, despite his age and inexperience. Rumor had it that he had killed a basilisk in his second year; that said basilisk was the 'monster' in Slytherin's Chamber. If that was even close to the truth, any student worthy of being considered remotely intelligent understood that the brat had saved many lives, perhaps even their own. Add to that, the brat's fame for not only surviving against the killing curse, but repeated brushes with the dark lord himself, and he was afraid his son just might be right. The brat had incredible potential. The problem, as he saw it, was could the dark lord win quickly enough to counteract that potential.

_With his seeming obsession with the brat?_ his thoughts taunted. _Maybe not._ Shaking his head clear of that dismaying thought, Lucius leaned back, and absently sipping his drink, carefully pondered Draco's assertions that the brat was the head of line for _two_ ancient lines. The Potter line certainly. He was the only Potter left, after all. What other family could he possibly be head of, though? It made no sense. The boy's father had only been the Potter head, of that he was absolutely certain.

He didn't doubt his son's information, however. That was one thing his son was good at, gathering intelligence. He may not always know quite what to do with said information, but he did have a knack for getting hold of it in the first place. _Damn it!_ he thought sullenly. _This is getting complicated._

As much as he loathed the idea, fought it with every ounce of his will, he could _feel_ the curse's urgings begin. Unfortunately, he really didn't like what it had to say.

_Oh, and you love cowtowing to the bloody dark lord so much better?_ he sneered silently. That was a problem, however, his mind shifting gears without his full realization. One did not simply stop being a deatheater. To even try meant a torturous death. To ignore for long the curse's call, however, meant eventual insanity. Neither was an attractive fate. He would definitely have to think through his options. Surely the curse would bend to a reasoned conclusion. After all, dead or incarcerated, one could not gain power of any sort.

Coming to an abrupt decision, he rose quickly and strode from the room. He needed his occlumency better trained and he knew only one way to do that. He knew enough to keep knowledge of the curse from anyone, but knew a concerted effort would break past what mind shields he could raise. Unfortunately, he could think of only one person to go to for that training. As he moved, he plotted.

_A wizard's oath, to keep quiet about whatever he might learn from my mind - perhaps even an unbreakable vow, if I can manage to get Severus to actually make one._

Lucius snorted; that was a given. A thousand other details and obstacles spun through his mind as he headed back to his study, each of which would need to be seen to and countered before he could proceed. He was not about to react without a solid plan behind him. First, though, he had an owl to write. No matter his final decision, he _had_ to keep knowledge of his . . . uncertainties from the dark lord. Those would be just as dangerous as actually betraying the wizard - should his end decision be to act on that horrifying thought.

x-x-x

Draco breathed out heavily, the action a strange mixture of relief and frustration. Yes, he was relieved that his father was now gone and the meeting was over with - with himself left relatively intact, pride notwithstanding. But now he had a couple of problems. One, he had to figure out something new for winter break - unless he could manage a second chance for his father and Potter to run into each other - because his father wasn't backing down from him coming home. Secondly, he needed to find that mysterious way for the two of them to run across each other! Damn it! This had been perfect, but his father had run off in a huff and he hadn't got the chance to actually engineer the 'random meeting'.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered softly.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco jumped and spun around to face his godfather. "Sorry, Sir," he replied, trying to sound completely unsurprised while his heart raced against his rib cage from the surprise of his godfather's sudden appearance. Of course, the fact that he still wasn't a hundred percent certain that the man wouldn't ship him off to the dark lord if he couldn't manage to talk him around wasn't helping his sense of peace. Sure, the man had _said_ he wouldn't, had - in fact - looked faintly repulsed by the idea, but that didn't mean he couldn't change his mind if push came to shove.

Severus snorted and shook his head. "Sit, Draco," he ordered pointedly, taking his own seat behind his desk. "I won't bite."

The corner of his mouth twitching upward, Draco did as ordered, his mind in a sudden flurry of thought that was not reflected in his words or tone. "That went better than I'd feared, worse than I'd hoped," he offered quietly. Several of the conversations from the past couple days kept turning themselves over in his mind and he suddenly realized _Potter had **known**!_

_How? Why? When?_ Draco mentally shook himself. It really was more important to figure out what it actually meant. How did it alter _his_ plans?

Arching a questioning eyebrow at him, Severus didn't say anything, merely waited and Draco forced his thoughts back on track. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to reveal about the whole situation. He couldn't very well reveal that he'd lured his own father here in the hopes that he'd run across Potter, thereby activating the curse, and making his life easier, now could he? For one, his godfather didn't know about the curse, _couldn't_ know about the curse. That knowledge in a deatheater's hands would certainly endanger his father, and on the off chance that his godfather chose to keep it to himself it would then endanger his godfather. It was a no-win scenario no matter how he looked at it.

"He wants me home for Yule break," he said softly.

"Why wouldn't he?" Severus returned blandly.

Draco's eyes narrowed. The man was being purposely obtuse, he just knew it. "I'm . . . wary of certain family traditions at this point," he offered carefully, earning him a sharp stare from his rather intimidating godfather.

Severus leaned forward over his desk, resting his weight on his forearms and locking his gaze with Draco's. "It's perhaps not the most Slytherin ideal, but I am going to be blunt here within the safety of my office."

Draco nodded his willingness. Perhaps now he might get some help for his current situation.

"The 'family tradition' you're currently wary of is the fact that the dark lord plans to mark you this coming Yule, correct?"

Again Draco nodded, knowing nothing more than that was needed.

"All things considered," Severus continued, "I assume you wish to avoid that."

Draco nodded a third time. "Unfortunately, I see no way of doing that without alerting father to the fact that he's no longer, magically speaking, my head of line."

Severus frowned at him. "What has one got to do with the other?"

"I told him I'd wished to stay here for the holidays in order to spy on Potter's activities."

Severus snorted. "I'm sure that did not go over well."

"No, it didn't. He wrote back, refusing my request."

"Then why did he visit?" Severus asked pointedly.

"Because I wrote him a second note, reiterating that I would not be coming home over break. Instead of writing back, he came here to deliver his demand in person."

"He invoked head of line authority," Severus replied knowingly.

"Yes," he replied flatly, refusing to nod a fourth time.

"I can see no way around his finding out, in that case," Severus admitted. "I will give it some thought, however, and will let you know if I come up with anything."

Draco sighed as he stood, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, toying with the idea of doing the unthinkable, of revealing the family curse to yet another person. His godfather couldn't help him get his father and Potter in one place if he didn't know about it. He kept quiet. He well knew why his family had kept it from everyone - including those who married into the family. It was too big a risk. The curse was something that could very easily be used against them, and his godfather, however much he may care - something the man had already proved over the last couple weeks - was a Slytherin first and foremost; a Slytherin deatheater.

No, he would have to figure this out on his own. "Thank you for your assistance, Professor," Draco offered formally, heading out of the room. He knew better than to expect a verbal response. Social niceties were lost on the man most of the time, Severus considering them an inane waste of time. The irritated wave of the man's hand, acknowledging he had heard, was the best he could expect. It was enough. Draco accepted the man as he was, and didn't expect him to change just for him. Good thing, too, because he doubted there was a person on the planet that could 'smooth his godfather's rough edges'.

He almost laughed, picturing someone actually having the idiocy to try. Shaking that picture from his mind, he focused once again on what he was going to do. Unfortunately, he suspected his godfather was right and there would be no way to keep his father from finding out _exactly_ what was going on. He would prefer it to be after - way after - his father ran across Potter himself, but he wasn't sure that would be an option, especially since this attempt had failed so spectacularly. Be that as it may, he needed to speak to Potter, arrange the continuation of the tutoring sessions over the break; they hadn't discussed that yet. He certain wasn't going to let the information go stale. Everything Potter had yet to learn built on what they'd already discussed. All of it was a rather complex and convoluted quagmire of traditions and laws that made for big troubles if you couldn't keep straight what was tradition and what was actual law. Of course, it wasn't even as simple as that. Beyond tradition vs law, there was also political law vs magical law, and the consequences of breaking either.

Of course, breaking political law wasn't so bad, so long as you didn't get caught - or had the money to bribe your way out. Breaking magical law, on the other hand, could be disastrous. There were times, which Potter had to learn, when it was possible to break magical law, you just had to be prepared for the consequences thereof, and plan for them accordingly. Of course, that wouldn't be possible for Potter until the prat learned to sit down and really think through his decisions to the bitter end. Some magical laws could be broken with relatively minor consequences, others, not so much. The biggest problem with breaking those kinds of laws was that the same law could result in consequences of varying severity, depending solely on just how badly said law was broken.

Magical laws like an unbreakable vow had, of course, very severe consequences if broken. Unbreakable was actually rather a misnomer. The unbreakable vow could be broken, you just ended up dead as a consequence - rather an excellent reason _not_ to break it in Draco's considered opinion. The fealty oath was another such law, and the consequences of breaking that varied quite a lot, actually, depending greatly on the severity of the break _and_ what was verbally and magically agreed to.

Potter hadn't even begun to study those things, still tied up in all the traditions and political rigamarole that went into being both a lord and a head of line. As long as the idiot didn't go making any magical contracts in the meantime, he'd be fine until he knew what he was doing.

_I hope!_

Draco's eyes widened as he rounded the corner of the castle, finally spotting his quarry. He stopped on the spot, staring out over the grounds. Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to approach Potter at all. They may have been getting along a whole lot better, but Draco really wasn't sure about approaching while the Gryffindor was in such an obviously foul mood. He shook his head and slowly continued forward, still debating. What he couldn't understand, was how he'd never been able to see all that power of Potter's before, how no one else _could_. To him it was like a brightly glowing, electrical storm whipping around the Griff. Now, normally, it didn't whip so much as swirl, which is what made him aware that Potter was so angry. He had to wonder what had the prat tied in so many knots at the moment. Then dread set in and he had to wonder if it was something that would affect him.

"Potter?"

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

AN: My apologies for the very long wait for this update. I've been stuck offline with no internet and no computer in Mundania. :( I've got Episode 5 finished as well as 90% of episode 6. I had more, but the computer I had the rest on, fried, badly. Please enjoy.

Kiri

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Chapter Two  
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It didn't take long to calm Potter down some, thankfully. Draco really didn't like feeling intimidated by Potter, of all people. This was the schoolmate he'd regularly traded hexes and insults with, after all. Only now, he was wondering if he'd been blind or completely nutters to do so. At the moment, provoking someone like Potter did not seem a very Slytherin thing to do.

"I tried to convince my father to let me stay at the school over Yule break, on the pretext that I'd be keeping an eye on what you were doing," he said, sighing. "He didn't go for it."

Potter waved off his words. "It wouldn't have worked anyway."

Draco frowned. "Why not?" he demanded. It had been a good way to prevent himself getting marked.

"Because _I'm _not going to be here for Yule break," Potter spat angrily.

Draco blinked. "But you're always here for break," he protested before he could stop himself. Potter at Hogwarts during Yule break was a hallmark of their school years. It was an established fact, something that was not supposed to be subject to change.

Potter snorted. "Yeah, well, not this year."

"Why?"

Potter frowned, truly focusing on him for the first time since this conversation had begun. He then looked around - to make sure no one else was within hearing distance, Draco presumed - before saying anything else. "Dumbledore's got a bee up his- well, anyway. I'm going somewhere _else_this break so I can continue my extra curricular studies."

Draco frowned. "I would think," he began tentatively, uncertain just what had Potter so upset, "that you would _want_extra training, all things considered."

"Not _this_training," he sneered. "I'd love it if it was something that might actually help me against Voldemort."

Draco controlled his wince at hearing the dark lord's chosen name, mostly. "And this won't?"

Potter sighed, and slumped. "Some of it will, I suppose," he admitted, "it's more _who_ he's got me training with _and_the fact that I've got absolutely no say in it at all. The ba- headmaster has me scheduled to work 6 days a week all break."

Draco felt his jaw loosen but refused to let it fall. "That's ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "Not even my father ever worked me that hard."

Potter's gaze sharpened suddenly. "Why did you want to stay here over break, anyway?"

He'd wondered if Potter would ask. "My father has certain . . . family traditions he wants me to participate in this Yule," he said carefully. He hoped Potter would catch on, he didn't want to say it explicitly. No matter how careful they were, they _were_out in the open here.

Potter's eyes widened. "Oh, um, that's not good."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You have such a way with the obvious, Potter," he sneered, unable to completely stop the automatic reaction to such an obvious statement.

Potter laughed, though, surprising Draco. "Yeah, well, at least I'm good at something. I'll figure something out, Malfoy."

"Like what?"

Rolling his eyes, Potter glared at him. "If I knew _that_, I wouldn't have to think about it, now would I?"

Of course. _stupid question, Draco Malfoy._Potter must be rubbing off on him. He'd have to be more careful about that in the future. He could just imagine his father and godfather's reactions to him suddenly starting to behave like a bloody Gryffindor. He shuddered.

"I saw him today, by the way."

Draco blinked. "Who?"

"Your father. He left in rather a hurry."

_Yes!_ His plan _had_worked. Maybe this whole situation wouldn't be so bad after all. "Good," he replied with a sharp nod.

"Good?"

"Yes, Potter," Draco replied drily. "Good."

"How is my running into him a good thing?"

"In case it's slipped your tiny mind, my father is a Malfoy also."

Potter gave him the strangest look, as if _he_was the one who was an idiot. "Well, of course he is, otherwise you wouldn't b- Oh! Oh my."

"Finally caught up, have we, Potter?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Potter snapped, frowning. "That could cause some problems."

Now it was Draco's turn to frown. He really didn't like frowning. According to his mother, frowning caused wrinkles, and he was really too young to be getting those. "What do you mean, problems?" he demanded. "I'd think you'd be happy to subvert him."

"It's not that," Potter replied absently.

"Well then, what _is_it?"

Potter sighed, returning his gaze to the here and now. "Voldemort's not gonna just let him go, you know."

There was that.

"Near as I can tell, it actually hurts to be called," Potter continued. "What's to stop the bastard from simply calling until he drives your father insane from the pain?"

Draco leapt to his feet. "We can't allow that!" he hissed, only barely remembering to keep his voice down.

"Of course not," Potter replied, but Draco felt the prat wasn't taking the situation seriously enough. This was his father they were talking about. He may not always like the man, but he did love him. He was family. "Something else we'll have to figure out, and soon. We'll need to have something in place just in case your father does do an about face."

"It's not just in case, Potter," Draco sneered. "He won't have a choice."

Potter shrugged and met his gaze squarely. "It's all a matter of perspective, Malfoy."

"Perspective!" Draco snarled disbelievingly, then stopped as his father's words floated through his mind.

_"Indeed it would," Lucius reluctantly admitted, "however, something I don't think you realize is that your . . . limited perception of the situation would also affect how the curse interacts with you and those you come into contact with. I'm sure if you think this through logically, you will know I am right."_

Draco didn't think his 'perception' of the situation was as limited as his father would have him believe. In fact, he was pretty sure his perspective was the right one, and his father simply had blinders on, refusing to see what was right before his eyes simply because Potter wasn't an adult yet. His frown deepened. Could his father possibly convince himself that he was indeed following the more over-all powerful person? Damn it all! Maybe he was going to have some more work to do. He _really_didn't want to be on opposite sides of this from his father. It went against everything he was brought up to believe.

Beyond all the pureblood dogma, the socially and politically correct ways to behave in any given situation, and the knowledge that he was better than most of the people around him simply because he was who he was, was the foundation that family was _everything_.

"I suppose," he said slowly, still thinking as he spoke, "we'll have to work on his perspective, then."

Potter laughed. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied. "I imagine it would be hell being on opposites sides from family."

Draco didn't reply to Potter's comment. There was nothing to say that wouldn't be redundant, or obvious; a Malfoy was many things, but never obvious.

"Hey, Malfoy, didn't you say that most of the old families have more than one home?"

"Yes," Draco replied warily.

"Would that include the Potters do you think?"

Draco blinked in shock at the question. "You mean you don't know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I did," Harry snapped impatiently. "I know nothing of my heritage, beyond the fact that both my parents were Gryffindors. My mother was muggleborn and my father was a pureblood. I don't even know the names of my grandparents. I discovered one property the last time I went, but that was it."

Draco blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. "Okay, another lesson then, an impromptu one this time. First off, the Potters are loaded, not quite in the same league as the Malfoys, but nothing to sneer at, either. Unless they sold them all off for some inane reason, then they pretty much have to have more than one."

"There doesn't seem to be enough in my vault to support that theory," Potter protested, his eyes wide.

"You've probably only got access to a trust vault, Potter."

"Oh, well that explains that."

"Of course, I don't know what properties the Potters had. The Malfoys and Potters have never really run in the same circles after all."

Potter chuckled, nodding. "No, I imagine not."

Draco ignored the reaction. "The Blacks on the other hand, I know have several properties."

"Yes, but will they be habitable without a team of curse breakers working on them for a month or more?"

"Sadly enough, Potter, that is a very valid concern."

"Guess that means I definitely have to get to Gringotts and soon. I have no way of knowing what kind of condition the one I know exists is in."

"I don't understand why you haven't already learned all this. I've been learning about it since just after I turned nine."

Potter rolled his eyes. "What part of 'I didn't even know I was a wizard until my 11th birthday' did you not truly understand?"

"Right, forgot about that part."

"I was planning to wait until break to get to Gringotts, but I think I'm going to have to get there sooner than that - especially if we can't come up with another way to keep you away from," Potter paused, 'certainly family traditions."

Draco frowned. "That's not going to be possible, Potter. It's too far, even if you could sneak out without getting caught."

"Not without help, anyway," Potter smirked.

That worried him a bit; he wondered if he was suddenly going to get pulled into one of Potter's adventures . . . and just how dangerous his part was going to be.

x-x-x

"Despite popular myth, a deaging potion is _not_a cure-all for growing old," Professor Snape hissed at the class, "nor is it the fabled elixer of youth." He paused sneering at everyone present. "Why not?" he continued sharply, then pointed. "Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked that nearly ever-present smirk of his as he answered. "Because it's only temporary. The effects of a deaging potion last anywhere from one day to three weeks, depending on the purity of the final product."

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin."

"In what situations might a deaging potion be useful?" he continued. "Zabini."

"An old man might use it in order to get laid," Zabini suggested, grinning, causing snickers throughout the room.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Five points from Gyffindor, Mr. Finnegan, for your uncalled for outburst. Mr. Zabini, save your . . . _humor_for a more appropriate setting."

Harry sighed quietly. The man would never change. He didn't think he'd ever seen the man subtract even a single point from Slytherin, no matter the provocation. He'd seen the occasional detention given, but that was about it.

"Yes, Sir."

"Try again, Mr. Zabini," Snape continued, eyes narrowed.

"If someone is in ill-health due to aging and needs to undergo treatment that would be better tolerated by someone younger, a deaging potion could be used."

"Correct."

Well, at least he didn't give points to the prat.

"When is it _not_to be used? Mr. Thomas."

"As a prank."

"Obviously," Snape drawled snidely. "Five points from Gryffindor for such a waste of class time."

"Potter!"

"Oh, um, when someone is less than 40 years old, because the potion deages the drinker between 10 to 35 years."

"Incomplete, but correct, Potter," Snape replied crisply.

"You will be brewing the base for this potion today. Instructions are on the board. Now, get to work! But be warned. Anyone caught sneaking _any_sample of this draught out of this classroom will discover a newfound career as Hogwarts' caretaker." He paused, sneered, then continued. "For those of you with too small a brain to figure it out, that means detention with Filch for the forseeable future."

Everyone hurried to get their ingredients.

The rest of the class sped by relatively tamely, something Harry had not yet become used to. He still half expected Malfoy to try and sabotage his potion as he quite frequently used to do. Even Snape didn't do anything more than sneer at his efforts. He just couldn't tell if that meant he was on the right track with the potion, or whether Snape just couldn't be bothered today.

Five minutes before the end of class, Professor Snape returned to the front of the room. "Bottle your base and store it under stasis in the student stores. You will finish brewing your deaging draught Friday. Dismissed."

Harry fought a groan. That meant he would need to concentrate on the last day of school before break. Count on Professor Snape to not give anyone a break in his class. He just hoped the other professors were a little more lenient, or Friday was going to be a really long day for everyone, accompanied by a lot of lost house points. Harry toyed with staying behind and asking Professor Snape if he could help him get to Gringotts, but quickly discarded the idea. The man was dead set against 'breaking the rules' and Harry was just as certain that he wouldn't be willing to set that aside for _him_of all people. He was going to have to do this on his own.

He frowned as he bottled his base - it wasn't exactly like Hermione's but it did look pretty close to the way the instructions said it should - then quickly put up all his supplies. He didn't want to put his vial up until everyone else was done. No sense taking any chances that someone would take up where Malfoy left off and break it, leaving him without a base.

_No,_ he thought as he followed his friends out of the classroom, _not completely alone_. He could get Hermione and Ron to help cover for his absence. He _could_ do this, at least he could with help. With that thought in mind, he turned most of his attention to figuring out just how he was going to do this. Obviously, he had to get there without letting anyone know he was outside the safety of Hogwarts wards, _and_he had to figure out just how he was going to get to Diagon Alley. Floo was the obvious choice, but the only two floo connections he knew about were in The Three Broomsticks and The Hogshead. He'd be recognized instantly in the The Three Broomsticks - Rosemerta would definitely know who he was and that he was supposed to be in school, and he wasn't so sure he wouldn't be just as recognized in The Hogshead either. That kind of put a crimp in the idea of flooing. At the moment, unfortunately, he didn't have any other ideas. He'd have to ask Hermione - assuming she'd actually help him. She could be a stickler for the rules, herself, when she got a bee in her bonnet.

The next big obstacle to keeping this unauthorized outing secret was the goblins themselves. he didn't know squat about them, beyond what Hagrid had told him. _They're not the most friendly of folks._Considering Hagrid's areas of interests, that said something about the nature of goblins. Harry just wasn't sure quite what that might mean to him, now. He supposed there was nothing for it, but to visit the library after transfiguration class - the last class of the day.

"Hey, guys," he said brightly as he finally caught up to his two friends.

"Hey, Harry," they replied together.

"What took you so long?" Hermione continued as they walked.

Harry shrugged. "Just thinking. Look, could we go somewhere after class and talk? I need to ask a favor."

They both nodded.

"Sure thing, Harry," Ron replied.

With that, their conversation ended as they entered McGonagall's classroom.

x-x-x

"But you can't, Harry," Hermione protested, just like Harry had known she would.

He glared at her just the same. "I have to. This is more important than school rules."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "This isn't just about school rules, Harry," she snapped, then frowned. "Though, it does break a number of them."

Ron snorted, then shrunk back when Hermione's head whipped around, transfering her glare to him.

"I just don't see how you're going to get all the way to Gringotts without getting caught. _Someone_is bound to recognize you, and then where will you be?" She snorted then, shaking her head. "With your luck it'll be someone from the other side, and then you'll really be in trouble - of the life and death variety."

Before Harry could respond to that, Ron sat forward. "What's so important that you need to do this?" he asked pointedly.

Harry slumped. He should have realized it would come to this. He was going to have to explain. He just hoped that Malfoy wouldn't consider this some sort of breech of trust, or something. He quickly outlined the problem with Draco's father. He didn't say anything about Malfoy's hopes in regard to the man, though. He didn't feel it was his place - at least not until he and Malfoy knew for sure.

"But you're his head of line, now, Harry. Malfoy's father _can't_order him home - even if he is his father."

"Yes, Ron, but we don't want anyone to know that yet."

Ron frowned. "Right," he replied, his expression pensive as he thought. "Well, what about. . . ." Ron's voice trailed off and he started looking a little green, instantly worrying Harry, Hermione too, judging by how quickly she reached out.

"What's wrong?"

Ron shook his head, as if to clear it. "Since it's Malfoy you're trying to protect, do you think Snape-"

"Professor Snape, Ron."

Ron brushed aside Hermione's correction and continued. "-Professor Snape would help you? I mean, he actually _likes_the ferret, doesn't he?"

Harry blinked at Ron, completely gobsmacked. Not that he hadn't considered the same person himself, because he had. It's just the _he_had spent a lot of time beginning to see parts to the man that he didn't think anyone else had got to see in a very long time - except maybe the headmaster - and he'd come to the beginnings of true respect, despite still not liking him very much. Ron hadn't had that opportunity and it came as something of a shock to see his usually hot tempered friend look beyond his own prejudices.

"What?" Ron demanded, shifting uncomfortably.

Harry grinned and shook his head. "You're right, Ron," Harry said, instead of answering the defensive question. "I'll ask him." He frowned. "Of course, if he says no, it's going to make it _really_hard to do this."

"If he says no, he'll then be watching for you to go ahead and do it anyway," Hermione added, nodding knowingly.

That was exactly what he was worried about. The problem was, he still didn't see how he was going to do this without the help of a Professor without getting caught. None of them had been able to come up with any ideas that he hadn't already thought of and discarded as unreliable.

He didn't like asking for help in the first place. It usually didn't turn out well. Too many times he or his concerns had been brushed aside as unimportant. He sighed, but nodded to Hermione. "Yeah," he said, knowing he would anyway. He promised to protect the prat, so protect him he would, even if it meant getting into trouble for it.

"I'll ask though," he repeated softly. Ron was the best of the three of them with plans - at least when his temper wasn't up - so if _he_suggested going to someone he disliked so thoroughly, it probably really was the best option. Which meant, of course, it was time to put Malfoy's training in Slytherin thinking to good use; though, Harry had to admit that most of it made sense in a very self-serving sort of way. A lot of it reminded him, rather uncomfortably, of how he'd had to think at the Dursleys'.

Ron snorted suddenly, startling both him and Hermione.

"The ferret's been kinda okay," Ron admitted with a wry smile, "lately."

Harry's jaw dropped. He _never_ thought he'd hear _that_out of his friend's mouth . . . ever. There hadn't even been any clue that Ron's attitude toward Malfoy had . . . softened at all in the last few weeks - at least, not that he'd noticed.

"I mean, it's not like he's all friendly like, but. . . ."

"He hasn't gone out of his way to be rude," Hermione finished after Ron trailed off.

Ron nodded to her. "Yeah, that," he agreed.

On that note, the three of them split apart, Harry heading for the dungeons. He stopped long before he crossed into what could legitimately be considered 'Slytherin territory', soundly berating himself. He couldn't just trot off to see Professor Snape as if the man were any other professor. That was an obvious mistake that would make dealing with the wizard - in any capacity - a harrowing experience for a long time to come, not to mention it would not be a very Slytherin approach; which was something he would need if he had a hope in hell of getting the professor's help with this. The man already thought Malfoy would be better off with the headmaster. There was no need to prove it. He turned abruptly and headed back the way he came, wishing he'd thought to bring it up when he'd approached the man about the headmaster's scheme. It would have to wait for their session tonight, however. Harry just hoped that would leave enough time to accomplish his task. Things needed to be set up before the majority of students left for break. Of course, the professor just might be able to think of another way to help his godson. He had a vested interest in the outcome, after all.

x-x-x

Severus was very grateful for his years of practice in controlling his expression. He in absolutely no way wanted Potter to know just how much the brat had managed to surprise him . . . _again_. This was getting to be a very bad habit, one he didn't like at all. He used to think he was beyond being surprised by the things students did, but Potter seemed set on proving him wrong.

He narrowed his eyes at the boy, assessing him carefully, falling just short of true legilimency - mild legilimency wouldn't work any more, anyway. Not only had the blasted boy greeted him in formal wizarding tradition, with a bow designated to indicate respect toward one whose standing, either socially or politically, was slightly superior, he'd made an unbelievably outrageous request. "Let me see if I've got this right," he began, carefully cultivating his normal sneer. "You want _me_, the bane of Gryffindors everywhere, to help _you_sneak out of the school to go on some ill-conceived jaunt."

"Yes," Potter replied, almost smirking, "except I wouldn't say it was ill-conceived. It's the only way I can get the information to help Malfoy." He shrugged then. "And myself. For myself, I was originally planning to wait until after break started, but Malfoy can't go to number 12."

Severus snorted. "And it never occurred to you that the headmaster would be able to set something up for him?" This was the way to get the protection his godson needed. Potter, even giving the brat credit for trying, couldn't provide it. No teenager could. He set aside his own growing reservations about Albus for this. This was more important than his own uneasiness.

As he watched, an expression on Potter's face that he never thought he'd see there - at least not aimed at him. It . . . concerned him just a little just how speculating the brat appeared to be. _What in Merlin's name could he possibly be wondering about _now_?_

"Quite frankly, Sir, I don't trust him to put Malfoy's needs above that of the big picture."

Severus frowned at that, surprised beyond measure at the brat's words. He'd known for some time that Albus and the brat had, had a falling out, but he hadn't realized it was quite this serious. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snarled. _Arrogant little brat! Thinking he knows better than people a century older and more experienced than he is!_

"I _mean_," Potter began carefully, then shook his head, obviously changing his tactics mid-sentence. "If you were Albus Dumbledore, leader of the light, what would _you_do if the son of the enemy's right hand suddenly fell into your lap?"

So intent on getting Draco better protection, Severus nearly growled out an automatic response about the boy's cheek, but his well-trained, analytical mind kicked in before he could do so, automatically spinning out everything his godson could be used for. It hit him swiftly and he nearly slumped. Oh, the headmaster would protect him alright, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be above using him, if the old man felt it was 'for the greater good'.

Eyes narrowing further, Severus stood slowly, and leaned across his desk. Locking his gaze to Potter's, he couldn't believe he was about to say this. "_If_ I help you do this, Potter," he ground out, "I will go with you, and you _will_do exactly as I say while we are off school grounds."

"Yes, Sir," Potter replied immediately. He even sounded as if he truly meant it. If that was the case, this might not turn into an unmitigated disaster.

"Follow me, Potter," Severus ordered, spinning away from his desk. They'd already had too much of this conversation where anyone could walk in - or possibly eavesdrop. If he was really going to do this, it was going to get done right.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

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Chapter Three  
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His invisibility cloak firmly around him, Harry's mind drifted as he waited for Professor Snape to appear. This had been the only way the other wizard would agree to this venture. He had to laugh, though, when Malfoy realized that _he_ was the linchpin to the whole thing.

Flashback

_"I'm going to have to what?" Malfoy exclaimed incredulously. "No one's going to believe I'm him!"_

"Well, then," Snape drawled, "I suppose you'd better perfect your acting skills by tomorrow, then, hadn't you?"

Ron snickered, not bothering to even try and hide his amusement.

Hermione bit her lip and ducked her head - though her attempt at hiding hers just drew attention to it.

Harry thought he very admirably kept his hidden . . . until Malfoy glared at him. He shrugged. "Sorry."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, very obviously not believing the apology for a moment.

Harry didn't blame him, he wouldn't have believed it either. It wasn't very convincing.

"You wouldn't be laughing if you were in my position," Malfoy muttered sullenly. "Do you have any idea what's in polyjuice potion?"

The three of them shared a quick look and nodded. "Yes," they all replied together, prompting a blink of surprise from Malfoy and an altogether too inquiring look from Professor Snape. Harry really didn't want to go there now. It might put a stop to this venture completely. He sincerely doubted that an angry Snape was going to continue to be a helpful Snape.

"A long story," he explained, "better left to be told another time."

end flashback

In the end, Malfoy had agreed to spend the evening being 'Harry Bloody Potter'. Ron and Hermione had agreed to make sure no one figured out that something - anything - was 'amiss'. Between the three of them, Harry was sure things would work out fine. If nothing else, Hermione would have the three of them studying all evening. Most of their friends left them all well enough alone once Hermione got the two of them settled down enough to actually study. They knew better than to incite her wrath should they distract either of them at that point - which even he had to admit was an easy thing to do.

Shivering, Harry quietly cast a warming charm. Even dressed for the weather, it was still cold. Shaking his head as he kept watch for Snape, he still had trouble truly believing that this particular wizard was really helping him break the rules - good reason or not - especially given their interactions during the summer. It did make him wonder if Snape now saw him as Malfoy's best option at this point. Or maybe, he was simply trying to make the best of what he saw as a bad situation? Harry snorted in response to the thought. There was no doubt in his mind that it was most probably the second of the two options. _Of course,_ Harry's mind piped up, _it _could _be that he's simply making sure he keeps access to his godson. I do have the authority to prevent it._

He frowned as that idea occurred to him, and hoped the professor didn't really think he might do that just out of spite. Surprisingly, a wave of hurt welled up in his chest at that.

"Of course Hermione's right," Harry muttered under his breath. Apparently, he really did want to prove himself to the bastard.

"What I don't get," he continued to himself, "is _why_." He didn't have time to come to any reasonable sort of conclusion on the matter, as Snape chose that moment to appear in the distance.

Harry straightened. "Professor," he acknowledged, as soon as the wizard was close enough that he didn't have to raise his voice at all, choosing his bow carefully to show his respect for the man's current - albeit temporary - position as his political superior. He just hoped there was still enough distance between them that he wouldn't overly startle the man. He seriously doubted that would be helpful toward the two of them getting along this trip - proper respect paid or not. The man couldn't even see him, after all. Snape struck him as someone who didn't like being startled.

Thankfully, the professor didn't seem to, he simply slowed his pace.

"Keep that infernal cloak of yours on until I say otherwise, Potter," he ordered, and kept walking, not even turning to face Harry's direction.

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied. _Well, that was better than it could have been,_ he mused, following silently behind. The back of his neck itched, as if unseen eyes were following their progress. The feeling didn't fade until they were off of Hogwarts' grounds _and_ past the shrieking shack. He was reasonably sure, then, that Dumbledore couldn't suddenly decide to look out a window and see him - cloak and all. Surprisingly enough, Snape seemed to agree with his paranoid assessment, because he stopped just past the falling down old building.

Harry tensed the moment Snape pulled his wand as he was turning, quietly slipping his own into his hand - though, he didn't actually raise it.

"Remove your cloak now, Potter," Snape ordered.

x-x-x

Draco shifted uncomfortably, beyond uneasy wearing Potter's body. The prat was _short_, and blind as a bat - not to mention, his glasses were both hideous and uncomfortable. He really didn't see how Potter could stand to wear them. He'd taken them off for all of about five seconds before realizing there was no way he would get away with not wearing them, however. He couldn't see a bloody thing!

"We need to go," Gra- _Hermione_ said, standing and gathering her things together.

Draco restrained the urge to sneer and snap that he wasn't going _anywhere_ looking like this. Instead, he too stood, the movement feeling awkward; off balance.

"Where does Potter get his clothes?" he asked irritably, trying to redirect his thoughts. "Tents to fit anyone?"

The Weas- _Ron_ snickered, but didn't answer.

_Prat!_

Gr- Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you really want to know the answer to that, you'll have to ask Harry."

_As if!_

"You remember what we went over?"

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, _Mother_," he drawled.

Her return glare had him rolling his eyes a second time and heading for the door. As much as he didn't want to do this, he'd rather just get it over with. It was certainly better than fretting about it. By the time they reached Gryffindor tower, however, he was about ready to call the whole thing off and go hide somewhere until the potion wore off. What should have been a measly ten minute trip, had taken them 30, with classmates from _all_ the houses stopping them to talk. The Griffs, Ravens, and Puffs hadn't surprised him much - beyond the sheer number - though, Loony Lovegood tried his patience to the limit. And judging by the look she gave him - and the speed with which Granger and the Weasel got him out of there - she could tell that something was off with 'Harry'.

What had surprised the hell out of him had been the first and second year _Slytherins_ that had approached them. Two had simply exchanged greetings in passing, but one had actually walked with the group until he was in danger of being discovered. then, he faded into the background with impressive skill. _He_ hadn't been able to do that well until _last_ year.

"Password?" the Griff portrait asked - a woman of rather . . . impressive proportions!

"Euthymia."

"What kind of password is that?" Draco muttered quietly, but apparently, not quietly enough.

"It's Latin."

"I am aware of that G- _Hermione_," he snapped; though, he did manage to keep his voice down.

Granger blushed instantly. "Sorry," she whispered, "forgot for a second who I was talking to."

Draco snorted in response, but made a mental note to include at least some latin lessons with the others he was tutoring Potter in.

Taking a good look around him, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the common room - though, horribly decorated - was thankfully nearly empty. He'd been picturing being utterly surrounded by Gryffindors.

Hermione took one chair, the- Ron another, which left the divan for him. That was fine as far as he was concerned. It gave him room to stretch out. When she began piling her books on the low table in front of her, however, he really breathed a sigh of relief. Doing homework meant he didn't need to keep up a conversation with anyone. He quickly reached for his - well, Harry's - bookbag and pulled his own supplies out, including the polyjuice, which he quickly downed a dose of.

_Disgusting stuff!_

Ron groaned, but a glare from Hermione, cut it short - thankfully.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Ron muttered.

Draco smirked, but did manage to keep the expression from the red-headed slacker.

To keep from aggravating anyone unnecessarily - himself included - he settled in and began concentrating on his homework, pretty much ignoring his two companions. Unfortunately, the peace didn't last long. Less than 20 minutes into their revising, a harpy's screech sounded from the entrance.

"Harry James Potter!"

Draco smirked, _Harry's in trouble,_ sing-songing silently through his thoughts. A sharp, painful kick to his leg made him jump and grab his shin. "What?" he snapped just before it clicked. _Oh! Right. __**I'm**__ Potter. Bloody hell!_

"What's do you want, Ginny?" Ron snapped.

The Weaselette spared her brother a brief glare, before returning her full attention to him. Squaring off in front of him, scowl on her freckled face, fists clenched against her hips, she looked so much like her mother - the one time he'd seen the woman berating the twins - that Draco almost laughed. How he managed not to, he would never know. It was a feat of iron will!

"Yes, Ginny?" he asked, even managing to sound quite polite.

"Don't you 'yes, Ginny, me, Mr. Potter!" she growled.

_Oh, this is not good!_ Was Potter actually involved with the girl? He couldn't be, could he? The three of them would have said something about it, wouldn't they?

"What did I do?" he asked carefully.

"You bloody well know what you did!"

"Language, Ginny," Hermione interjected and was completely ignored.

_No, actually, I don't,_ Draco thought sourly, _because I'm not the bloody prat!_

"You were supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago!"

_I was? I mean, _he _was?_ Now what was he supposed to bloody do? He certainly couldn't give the response _he_ would normally give to such an accusation.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said softly, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Unfortunately, the wand pointed between his eyes said that it _really_ wasn't. His eyes widened and he leaned as far from the wand tip as the divan would allow, a jolt of panic shooting through him.

"Who are you?" she hissed angrily, as both Hermione and Ron leap to their feet, said wand never wavering.

Draco, on the other hand didn't move an inch, his eyes glued to the wand held on him.

"You're certainly not Harry."

Knowing there was absolutely no way in hell he could get to his wand before the witch hexed him sideways and inside out, he frowned nervously. "Why would you say something like that?" he asked, his words coming at the same time as Hermione's huff.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginny," she snapped. "Of course, it's Harry."

"No, it's not!" the Weaselette insisted - the fact that she was right doing absolutely nothing for either his nervousness nor his annoyance.

"Harry didn't miss a meeting with me," she spat. "And even if he had, he wouldn't have muttered off a single insincere '_I'm sorry,_'." she continued scathingly.

"Damn it!" Hermione hissed, causing both Weasels to turn shocked expressions her way.

Draco seized hold of the golden opportunity granted him and grabbed Ginny's wand out of her hand. Once again feeling secure, Draco turned a 'surprised and disappointed' look to his fellow conspirator. "Hermione," he chastised softly - a smirk flirting with the edges of his mouth, "language."

Hermione instantly blushed a deep, unflattering red, but that was all he saw before the Weaselette launched herself at him, nails clawing at his face.

Before he could move past his shock at being _physically_ attacked, Ron and Hermione were pulling the brazen spitfire off him.

His hand automatically raising, he winced as his fingers touched one of the stinging scratches. Pulling his hand away, he gasped as he caught sight of the smear of blood across his fingertips. Horrified, he raised his eyes to glare at the struggling red-head.

"I'm bleeding," he accused - hating the whine that bled into his voice. He _hated_ blood. "You made me bleed."

Ginny stopped struggling to stare at him, a look of disgust transfiguring her face. "Who are you?" she asked again, the question sounding very dismissive this time. "Draco Bloody Malfoy?"

Dead silence greeted her words and her eyes widened comically in response.

The portrait opened and several younger Gryffindors tumbled into the common room.

_Shit!_

Hermione and Ron both tightened their grip on the girl and started hauling her toward the stairs.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, sounding completely flummoxed. "You mean I'm right!"

"Shh!" Ron hissed, pulling harder. "Unless you want to get Harry in trouble."

"Why should I ca-"

"The _real_ Harry," Hermione hissed quietly.

That shut the girl up. She also stopped struggling, which was a relief to Draco. They'd been drawing far too much attention for his comfort.

x-x-x

Harry's mind was reeling as he and the professor made their way back to the school. He had learned so much more than he'd expected to. The professor had suggested speaking with the goblin in charge of the Potter Estate before going down to his vault and that interview had been very enlightening. All but one of the Potter properties were still under the fidelius. All GrindAxe could tell him was that several properties did exist, that they were under the fidelius, and that the secret keeper had written the pertinent information down and had placed it in the Potter trust vault for him to find - should he need to.

It had taken both him and the professor twenty minutes to find the small box that securely held the information.

_"Professor?"_

"What is it, Potter?" Snape snapped, clearly irritated at the time the whole expedition was taking.

"I can't open this box," he replied quietly, holding out the ornately carved wooden box.

The professor's eyes widened then moment he caught sight of it. "Because that is a blood box, Potter," he replied shortly, swiftly crossing the vault.

"A blood box, Sir?"

"Yes. You'll need a drop of your blood to open it - assuming it's keyed to either you directly, or someone of Potter blood."

"And if it's not?" he asked warily. It didn't take a genius to know that if someone wanted to protect something that badly, there might be repercussions if the wrong person tried to open it.

Snape sneered. "Given the 'light' nature of the Potter family in general, and the fact that this is your vault, the consequences will be tame."

Tame? Harry wondered with a purely mental sneer of his own. That hadn't told him squat. He was pretty sure that what he considered tame was vastly different than what Professor Snape considered tame, and he really wasn't very enthused about discovering just how wide a gap there was between their separate definitions.

"Well?" Snape snapped impatiently.

Harry blinked, then sighed. He supposed there was no hope for it. Given the nature of what they were searching for, it was a reasonable assumption it might be hidden in something like this. With great reluctance, Harry pulled out his wand, only to freeze a moment later.

"No!" Snape shouted, lunging toward him.

"What?" Harry snapped, rearing away from the suddenly irate wizard.

"You can not use magic down in Gringotts' vaults, Potter," Snape sneered. "Unless, of course, you don't care to go on living with all your limbs intact."

Harry gulped. That would not be good. He really did like having all four limbs attached, thank you very much. "So how am I going to get my blood on it?"

Snape pulled out a dagger and held it out handle first.

Figures, the man would carry something like that around, Harry thought sourly, carefully taking the blade. He, in absolutely no way, wanted to accidently cut the man. He was pretty sure that would get him an even worse reaction than crashing into the whomping willow had back in second year. He brought the tip of the dagger to a finger, then paused, staring at the steel warily, then glancing quickly up at the professor.

The man smirked, amusement clear in the man's eyes. "No, Potter, it isn't poisoned."

It wasn't the amusement that confused Harry, it was what might have been cautious approval - very quickly hidden of course - that he'd thought he'd seen that confused him. It didn't make any sense.

Inside the box had been a ring and three sealed parchments. The first had contained information that no one - that Harry was aware of - knew about. Apparently, his parents' plan had been far more convoluted than switching secret keepers at the last minute. While Pettigrew was the secret keeper for their actual hiding place, _Sirius_ - as the obvious choice of keepers - held the secret to all the other properties, barring one. Wormtail had been only the second layer of protection for them. No one would immediately suspect him of holding the position. Everyone would have expected Sirius to be their keeper of secrets, so he was, just not the most vital one. He had even boasted one night that he was - after a contrived bout of drinking, of course - and had gone into hiding, himself, immediately thereafter. Who _his_ secret keeper had been remained a mystery. Sirius hadn't written of that, just the fact the he had, had one.

It was a brilliant plan. Even Professor Snape admitted that much. If Wormtail had been trustworthy, Voldemort would have gone searching for the wrong keeper, and even if they'd broken him, they'd have wasted a lot of time searching the wrong Potter properties, before realizing any sort of 'foul' play. Harry sighed heavily. _If only they hadn't trusted Peter Bloody Pettigrew._ It wasn't the first time he'd had the thought, and he sincerely doubted it would be the last.

The second parchment had held the list of Potter properties that Sirius had protected, the words written in Sirius' own handwriting - of course - as well as information about the Potter family ring. Sirius' words had also told him the information was probably buried in the journals his father wrote for him, but he wanted to save Harry the trouble of finding the good information in the middle of all the other stuff.

The third parchment remained unopened and had him twisted up inside. The ribbon it had been sealed with indicated it should not be opened at the bank, and that he should, in fact, wait to do so until he was completely assured of being alone. He was torn about whether or not he wanted to read it at all. Part of him wanted nothing more than to tear it open this instant, dying to know what the man's last words to him could be. Another part, the part that was fixated on the needing to be alone line, was terrified about what the letter could possibly contain.

He shook himself mentally, tearing himself away from thoughts of the letter burning a hole in his pocket.

Draco had been right about several issues - including the additional properties. The vault _had_ contained a set of journals in which his father had detailed his rights and responsibilities as the future head of the Potter line. He'd found them first thing. Nothing could have prepared him for how he had felt at seeing his father's handwriting for the first time. He'd opened the first journal and read the opening entry, his chest tightening until he felt like he couldn't breathe. It had taken several minutes before he could turn from that entry. According to it, his mother hadn't been the only one worried about their chances of survival. Unfortunately, it seemed as though neither had told the other their worries. They'd simply done what they thought needed done. The man had started working on the journals when Harry had been only a few hours old, finishing them up less than two months prior to his own death.

Judging by the quick scan he'd given several of them, they detailed everything Harry could possibly want to know about - including some things he really didn't care to know at all - like referencing examples in other books of previous marriage contracts made by Potters. Stuff that Malfoy had drilled him in was in them, as well as things the Slytherin had only vaguely mentioned for later study.

Harry couldn't believe he would _possibly_ need to know all of it - or even most of it for that matter. He knew, however, that despite that, he would study it all. He would do it simply because he didn't want to get caught flat footed and ignorant ever again - not about this stuff. It was too important.

But most importantly-

"Potter!" Snape hissed, dragging him from his thoughts.

He blinked in surprise, turning his attention to his professor. "Yes, Sir?" he asked. Before Snape could respond, however, the second dose of polyjuice he'd taken abruptly began to wear off. He doubled over as he body began to revert to normal. It was both a painful and unsettling feeling as the muscles and bone beneath his skin began to shift, to change. It felt like animals crawling through his body, clawing their way through muscle and flesh.

"That," the professor said drily, his words barely heard as Harry rode out the change.

He stood panting lightly as the odd sensations stopped, glad to be himself again. While it was a nice change of pace to not be recognized, Harry suddenly realized that he didn't want to be anyone but Harry - even taking into account all the hassles that went with being him. To deny himself was to deny his parents, something he was not prepared to do. With that epiphany came a measure of peace, so it was with a slight smile that he looked back up at his professor.

"What's wrong with you, Potter?" Snape sneered.

"Absolutely nothing," Harry replied cheerfully. When that garnered the oddest look from his sarcastic professor, he shrugged. "I just realized that there's no one I'd rather be than me. With the heartache, the hassle, the life-threatening danger, I'd still rather be _me_." He shrugged again. "It's very . . . freeing."

"Lucky you," the professor snarled; though, his sneering words couldn't quite hide the oh-so-brief look of . . . wonder? . . . envy?.

Harry wasn't exactly sure what the look meant; it was gone too quick. All he suddenly knew was that the professor didn't have that sense of self, and it was an eye-opening revelation, one that made him reconsider his opinions about the man. He was not going to forget any time soon, just how he had behaved fifth year when he'd been angry at the world, and the terrifying thing was, he could now see himself in the professor. It gave him a lot to think about.

"Don't just stand there dawdling!" Snape snapped. "Put on that infernal cloak of yours so we can return to the school."

Harry startled, and quickly moved to comply. The moment the cloak settled around him, hiding him from view, the professor spoke again.

"Follow me down to my office, Potter. We will talk there."

Harry sighed, wondering what was wrong now? Lost in his thoughts, he followed the wizard silently, pondering what he'd seen. Was it possible Snape wasn't as sure of himself as he seemed? Harry didn't see how it was remotely possible. The man radiated - among many other things - snide superiority, as well as a confidence in his own abilities that could be very intimidating.

_Those who actively seek to tear down and belittle those around them are often lashing out in order to cover up their own deeply seated insecurities._

The phrase reverberated through his mind with new intensity. He hadn't believed - nor understood it really - when he'd read it in one of the affirmation books Hermione had brought him over the summer, but now it seemed to make so much sense. Snape certainly lashed out at people a lot. The big question - of course - was why? Did he do it to keep them from getting close enough to hurt him? Looking back on his own behavior during 5th year, it seemed possible - very possible, in fact. The man lived a very dangerous life, after all. The least little slip could get him killed - or worse.

Absorbed in his thoughts, the trip to the professor's office didn't seem to take all that long. As they approached the door, however, Harry realized the one big flaw to simply taking Draco to one of the fideliused properties. He grinned beneath from the safety of his father's cloak. He was pretty sure he'd just thought of way to correct that flaw. The only drawback to it would be how much it would probably worry the Slytherin's parents. He supposed, however, that no plan was perfect. Of course, the darker, vengeful side of him was cackling that it just might be poetic justice to make them suffer. He quickly shook himself out of that line of thinking and slipped into the office, pulling his cloak off as the professor shut the door and began casting privacy spells.

The moment the professor slipped his wand back into his sheath, Harry gave voice to the tentative idea that his concern for Malfoy had formed. "Professor. Simply hiding Malfoy away at one of the Potter properties would obviously keep him from getting marked winter break, but it won't do anything to prevent his father from disinheriting him."

"I'm well aware of that fact, _Potter_," Snape spat out, Harry's name sounding like a curse again. "If you can not say anything productive, then do not speak."

Wanting to growl right back at the man, Harry took a deep breath, and shoved aside his reaction to the spiteful words. At least he knew where the hostility was coming from this time. No one would want to see someone they cared about lose everything. "What if," he began tentatively, "we make it look like he was kidnapped?"

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review. : ) 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plotline contained in this story. I will make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. It is solely for entertainment value.

AN: To those who reviewed; bless you! Your words warm my heart, and help me write. : ) This chapter is for you.

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Chapter Four  
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Draco shifted uneasily under the Weaselette's stare, trying very hard not to sneer back at her. Being sworn to Potter didn't mean he suddenly liked the prat's friends, and being stuck here and having one _stare_ at him that way was _not_ what he signed up for. Unfortunately, snapping at her like he usually would have, wouldn't be conducive to furthering his own agenda, either.

"Must you?" he demanded finally, only partially successful at keeping his frustration and irritation out of his voice.

'Ginny' blinked and reared back, blushing suddenly. "It's just so hard to believe," she said, turning to face Hermione. "This is _huge_," she continued, grinning widely. "I mean, it's blackmail material of the highest order. Draco Malfoy parading around as Harry Potter."

Draco's eyes narrowed. The little bint had bloody well better keep her mouth shut! Before he could say anything to that effect, however, Hermione spoke up.

"You can't, Ginny!" she exclaimed. "It-"

"Oh, I know that," the she-weasel replied airily, "but what I _can_ do, is savor the picture of what it would do to Malfoy's reputation if I did."

The weasel snickered, loudly.

Draco glared at the both of them.

Hermione simply sighed and shook her head at them all.

"What I really want to know," Weaselette said suddenly, her expression turning serious, "is _why_ he's doing this, and why are you two helping?"

"That, Ginny," said Harry, "is private information."

"Harry!" three voices squealed, making Draco wince in pain as the sound pierced his ears.

Draco scrambled out of the way as his three companions vaulted toward Harry. He simply rolled his eyes and waited; though, not patiently by any stretch of the imagination. As the three Gryffindors pelted Harry with question after question - without letting him answer a one of them - Draco was more glad than ever that he had been sorted into Slytherin and _not_ Gryffindor. He'd never have survived the volume with his sanity intact!

A sharp, ear-piercing whistle had him wincing a second time, but thankfully, it stopped the babble of questions instantly.

"What went wrong?" Harry asked, shifting his gaze equally between the three of them. "And what the hell happened to you?"

Draco bowed appropriately, before speaking, pleased to see his student return the gesture - though he was a bit weirded out by the fact that Potter gave him a familial bow from head of line to a slightly lesser relation. "I'm not entirely certain what set the W- Miss Weasley off," Draco replied. "She came in to the Gryffindor common room already sure that I wasn't you. And as to what happened to me, _she_ did," he continued, pointing a finger at the red-headed she-menace."

Frowning, Harry's gaze focused on the Weaselette, giving her a bow that indicated close family that was considered equal. "Ginny?" he asked.

She huffed. "Luna came to me, concerned. It took me ten minutes to figure out just what she was worried about, but once I waded through her odd comments, I came straight here and set a trap."

"A trap?" Harry asked flatly.

Weaselette nodded, grinning.

Draco wanted to slap the stupid grin off her face!

All told, it took another half an hour to get everything sorted out. And - unfortunately to Draco's way of thinking - Ginny Weasley was suddenly included 'in the know'. Well, he amended, she now knew about most of it. Potter, thankfully, had said nothing about the curse. That was the last thing he needed, yet someone _else_ finding out about it! His father was already going to kill him.

"Now that we have _that_ settled," Draco interrupted drily, "perhaps one of you can heal these cat scratches while Harry fills us in on what happened at the bank."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed and hurried over to him.

Draco shied back, frowning. "You're sure you know what you're doing?" he demanded, caring very much that he not end up with facial scars because of miscast healing charms.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It isn't exactly rocket science to cast the spells to heal such minor scratches," she replied scathingly.

"Hermione," Harry chastised.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. "Yes, Malfoy, I'm sure."

He nodded once and as she began, he turned his attention back to Harry. "So?" he asked pointedly.

Hermione finished with his face long before Harry finished speaking, and Draco couldn't _quite_ stop his jaw from falling slightly open as he listened to the convoluted plan the Gryffindor's parents had cooked up so many years ago.

"How are they still under fidelius?" Hermione asked. "What with what happened to. . . ." her voice trailed off and she winced.

Draco frowned. _What is __**that**__ about?_

Potter ducked his head, but not before Draco caught the look of anguish on the Gryffindor's face, confusing him further. Something was going on there. He just wished he knew what it was. He _hated_ not knowing everything that was going on around him. No one said anything for several seconds while Potter apparently pulled himself together.

"According to Professor Snape," Potter began quietly, not looking up.

Still listening, Draco added more etiquette to his list of things to add to the Gryffindor's training.

"When a secret keeper dies, everyone who's been told the secret, becomes a secret keeper in turn." Potter looked up then. "If he - or she - hasn't told anyone, then the fidelius is broken."

"So at least one other person was told about all this," Hermione added softly.

Potter nodded. "I just don't know who."

"That's not good," Ron exclaimed.

Draco rolled his eyes, but manfully refrained from any sarcastic comment. Frankly, he should be rewarded for that restraint.

Potter snorted. "Ya think?"

Ron flushed, then shook his head. "Surely, Snuffles wouldn't have told anyone they couldn't trust."

"One word, Ron," Potter retorted coldly, "Wormtail."

Ron slumped, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Point."

Draco was as lost as ever and he was losing patience. Who, the hell, were _Snuffles_ and _Wormtail_?

"Who is _Snuffles_?" he demanded when he could no longer contain himself.

It brought another round of dead silence to the group. _Wow! Didn't think it was possible for me to do that._

"He was my godfather," Potter replied quietly, pain lacing every slow word.

Draco frowned. Everyone knew Potter's Godfather was Sirius Black, the man who had betrayed the Potter's to the dark lord. He said as much, well, the part about Black, not the last part. That _had_ to be a touchy subject.

"He was," Hermione replied. "Snuffles was the code name we all called him by while he was on the run by the ministry."

Draco's eyes widened in outright shock. "You were in contact with him!" he yelped. "The man that was trying to kill you?"

"Sirius wasn't trying to kill me!" Potter snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Draco reared back in surprise at the outburst. Why would Potter be defending the wizard?

Potter took a deep breath, and blew it out forcefully. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," he said quietly with a shake of his head. "Sirius wasn't the one to betray my parents."

"But-"

"He was a secondary secret keeper, of all the Potter properties minus two," Potter continued, right over his objection.

_Oh. Then who-_

"Wormtail was their actual secret keeper. He betrayed my parents."

Draco frowned. "Who's Wormtail? And what kind of name is that? Oh, right, another 'code name'."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "No, nickname, from his animagus form of a rat. And _Peter Pettigrew._"

"The man Black killed?"

"Sirius didn't kill him," Hermione told him softly, cutting in before Potter could continue.

Draco listened, knowing full well he was _still_ wide-eyed. This was all so bloody hard to believe. Who, the bloody hell, cut off their finger to frame someone? It was insane!

"Isn't there _anything_ about you that isn't ridiculously complicated, Potter?" he exclaimed, the moment Hermione paused.

Potter let out a very unamused sounding snort. He tilted his head, looking as if he was actually giving the question serious thought. "No," he finally said.

"Why am I not surprised," Draco replied drily, causing a round of half-hearted chuckles. "So what now?"

"Now," Potter replied, "we have to figure out who the new secret keeper is."

"Or are, Harry," Hermione added softly. "More than one person could have been told."

"Or," Draco added, "different people could have been told about different properties."

Potter groaned, dropping his head to the floor in front of himself and banging it on the hard surface several times.

"Harry!" Hermione admonished. "Stop that."

"No."

Draco snickered as Hermione gaped.

Weasley glared at him before shifting his gaze back to Potter. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Potter's head snapped up and the Gryffindor stared at his friend rather incredulously. "What's wrong?" he yelped.

Weasley shifted uncomfortably, then shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"Do you know how hard it's going to be to figure out who all knows, and then whether or not they're safe, and _then_ whether or not we actually do know about everyone who knows?"

Draco blinked. _That was definitely convoluted._

Potter shook his head and stood suddenly. "The only thing I can do, is go to one of the houses and see if there are any clues to lead us in the right direction."

"That's too dangerous, Harry," Hermione protested.

_Stole the words right out of my head, Granger._

"What am I supposed to do, then, Hermione?" Potter snapped. "I have to find a safe place for us over the holidays and I don't exactly have a lot of time, in case you've forgotten!"

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively, looking as uncertain as Draco had ever seen her.

Potter's visible anger fled as if it had never been, but an odd wariness remained as he stared at his dorm-mate. "What?" he asked warily.

"I know you don't like how the headmaster has been forcing you and Snape together-"

"It's more than that, Hermione."

"I know," she replied, "but, don't you think he'd help you if you went to him?"

Much to Draco's dismay, Potter nodded. "Yes," he replied flatly.

Hermione frowned. "Then why won't you go to him?"

Keeping his mouth clamped shut on what he wanted to say, Draco sat tensely, waiting for Potter's answer.

"I don't trust him," Potter replied with a sigh, shaking his head.

"What?" Ron exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione snapped, "sit down, and calm down."

Surprisingly enough, Weaselbee did just that.

"Why, Harry?" Hermione continued, turning back toward Potter. "He's the leader of the light."

Potter shifted uncomfortably. "I know, Hermione," he replied impatiently. "As to why? I'm not sure, it's just a gut instinct."

Hermione frowned.

Potter jumped to his feet at that, pacing in the small space between the door and the end of his bed. "I trust him to lead the war, to know what to do against Voldemort."

Draco shuddered in spite of himself. He _hated_ it when people used the dark lord's name. Every time he heard it, he had to fight to look around to see if his name summoned the madman.

"Then what's the problem?" Weasel asked, looking confused.

_Not much difference from normal,_ Draco thought, managing to keep his smirk out of his expression . . . barely.

"I don't trust him to look beyond 'the greater good' he's always spouting off about, beyond the 'big picture' to see to what is in _Malfoy's_ best interests."

Draco sat numbly listening. Potter had split with Dumbledore? That was not good. As much as he didn't like the old man, Draco never once doubted he was a wizard to be reckoned with. "Potter," he said quietly, "it might not be the best idea to alienate the o- headmaster. He-"

Potter waved him off and rolled his eyes. "The old man doesn't know I don't blindly trust him anymore. He _does_ know I'm angry with him, but that's all."

Draco breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Apparently, at least one specific Gryffindor had the ability to think ahead. He was just grateful, he'd managed to find that one.

"What happened between you and Dumbledore, Harry?" Weasel asked, frowning.

"Professor Dumbledore, Ron," Hermione interjected.

"It wasn't any one thing, Ron," Potter replied, shaking his head. "It's just. . . ."

"Just what, Harry?" Hermione urged.

"He doesn't _listen_, not to anyone as far as I can see."

Hermione snorted, gaining everyone's instant attention. She blushed, ducking her head, but quickly rallied. "And that's different from you, how?" she asked tartly.

Weasel snorted, obviously thinking her comment funny. Potter, on the other hand, glared. "I listen, Hermione," he snapped.

Hermione started to reply, but Potter cut her off.

"Just because I don't always follow your advice, doesn't mean I don't hear it."

Again, before Hermione could get a word in; though, she did try, Potter continued.

"I also don't arrange _other_ people's lives without listening to them! I don't just brush off what they're saying about their own lives."

"I wouldn't be sitting here now, if you did, Potter," Draco offered quietly.

Potter nodded to him in acknowledgement of his words, then turned back to the Gryffindors, proceeding to tell them, exactly what the old man had planned for Potter's 'break'.

All three of the Gryffindors stared, gobsmacked - including the study enthusiast of the group.

"That's just not right, Mate!" Weasel exclaimed angrily.

Weaselette snorted and shook her head. "That's the point, _Ron,_" she drawled.

Hermione frowned. "So talk to him, Harry. Tell him it's too much, offer to compromise. I know you see the need to improve your occlumency."

Potter huffed. "Well, I can see what you think of my intelligence, Hermione," he replied sourly. "Thanks for that."

"What?" Hermione asked, looking a little confused. "It's a good idea."

"I'm well aware of that! And, I was just as aware of it, when I suggested it to the headmaster. He steamrolled right over any and all of my objections - including the one about it being Professor Snape's break too."

"Oh." Hermione slumped then. "I suppose he _is_ being a little unreasonable to exp-"

"A little!" the yelp was in duet, from either side of him, Weasel and Potter.

Potter shook himself and sat back down. "Everything else aside," he said quietly, "I'm tired of being a puppet. I'm taking control of my life. Dumbledore is my headmaster, _not_ my guardian. My guardians don't give a shit."

"Harry!"

Potter ignored her outburst. "I need to go to at least one of the Potter properties and check things out."

"H-"

"I'll be _careful_. I promise."

"H-"

"I'll take my invisibility cloak, and leave at the very first sign of-"

"**Harry!**" Hermione screeched.

_Ow._

Potter reared back.

"As I was _trying_ to say," she admonished, scowling. "_How_ do you think you're getting there?"

Potter blushed, a very unattractive shade of red. "Sorry," he mumbled, not meeting the girl's eyes.

Hermione huffed.

"But to answer your question," Potter continued, back to being determined, "portkey."

"That's illegal!"

"How's it illegal?" Potter asked, sounding confused. "We've taken several portkeys before."

"You can't just make your own portkey, Harry," Weasel inserted. "They're controlled by the ministry."

Potter laughed then; though, Draco couldn't see anything remotely funny about the situation. "I'm not planning to make my own, Ron," Potter replied through his continued chuckles. "I wouldn't even know how."

"Then-"

x-x-x

Hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, Harry twisted the ring and muttered, "home." The moment he did so, he felt the all too familiar sensation of a portkey jerking him . . . elsewhere. He really didn't think he'd ever get used to the sensation. It simply had too bad a connotation for him

He hadn't even taken a full breath after stumbling to the ground before several house elves popped into the room. He froze, watching the creatures warily. He didn't really believe in coincidence anymore, but he was _really_ hoping the elves just 'happened' to pop into the room virtually the same moment he had appeared. Unfortunately, after Kreacher's betrayal, there was only one house elf he trusted not to be out to get him killed - and he wasn't always certain that Dobby wouldn't go too far the other way and end up getting him killed anyway.

Unfortunately, all three elves stared directly at him. He twisted the ring abruptly, but froze - the return password half uttered - when one elf spoke.

"The master has come!" the nearest elf squealed.

Harry blinked at the unbridled enthusiasm of the tiny creature.

Seconds later all three elves were jumping excitedly, trying to bow at the same time.

Harry burst out laughing at the rather comical effect. Of course, he'd heard the phrase 'falling all over themselves', but he'd never before seen it happen . . . not _literally_ anyway. Shaking himself - though, he couldn't quite contain his continued chuckles - he pulled off the cloak. They could obviously already see him, or at least sense him, anyway.

"Master, you is come!"

"Yeah," he replied, shifting uneasily. "Does anyone else know about this place?" he asked.

All three elves shook their heads fervently. "No, Master, we's not be telling anyone. We's be good elves. We's be good secret keepers."

Shock numbed him for a moment, then he stepped toward the one who spoke. "Secret keepers?" he demanded intently.

The elf nodded just as vigorously as it had shaken its head. "Master Siri be trusting the elves with the secret _that night_. He be mighty upset, saying he is hunting rat. He say the charm must not be broken, and he be writing the addresses down on paper and giving it to Marli to read. He then say only Potter elves to know the secret until Master say different."

Harry jaw dropped as he listened to the proud elf prattle on.

"When Master Siri gave Marli secret, he say no one else know. He gave secret to no one else. When Master Siri die. Elves who know, hold secret with pride."

Relief washed through Harry. He was now more than certain that Sirius had told no one about it. If his godfather would have confided in anyone, it would have been Dumbledore, and if he had, then the man would have known about the secret keeper arrangement and Sirius wouldn't have gone to Azkaban.

"Is the house ready to be lived in?" he asked.

Harry got several more rather emphatic nods. "Oh, yes, Master. We elves be keeping it ready for you. We is always hoping you be coming soon."

Harry grinned, taking a good look around. The room he was in was richly decorated and obviously in good repair. "How many bedrooms does this place have?" he asked, returning his attention to the only elf to have spoken so far.

"Seven bedrooms and five suites," the elf promptly replied.

"You're Marli, right?"

The elf nodded. "Yes, I be Marli."

"Marli, how many elves are bound to the Potter family, and are _all_ those elves secret keepers?"

"Fifteen elves is bound to Master's family, but there being ten elflings born since last master left. They's not being bound yet."

Harry's eyes widened. He'd known his family was wealthy, at least since his last Gringotts visit, but this was shocking. So many elves. He winced mentally. Hermione was _not_ going to be happy.

"And only five elves is being secret keepers. Secret keepers must needs to being able to read wizard's tongue to learn secret," Marli explained, then continued proudly. "Marli is being able to read wizard's tongue."

"That's great, Marli!" Harry exclaimed. Even as he considered what to do next, he wondered if Dobby could read 'wizard's tongue'. "In two days I'll be staying here for winter break from Hogwarts. I'll have at least one full time guest, possibly more."

Before he could continue, all three elves squealed in excitement. "It being great to have guests again. We elves be making everything perfect!"

Harry smiled at Marli. "Could you make sure all five suites are prepared, just in case. I don't know just how many will end up staying. I'm sure a couple will only be here once in a while," he added, thinking specifically of Professor Snape. He was sure the man would _so_ not want to stay in a Potter home. In fact, Harry was almost as sure, the man would rather cut something off than do so. He wanted to have a room ready, just in case, however. He wasn't going to make any firm decisions based on assumptions about that tetchy man. It was a sure bet that as soon as he did so, the man would act contrarily and decide the opposite of what Harry figured on.

Marli immediately turned to the other elves and shot rapid fire orders at them in a language Harry didn't understand. _House elves have their own language?_ Harry wondered in shock, and then soundly - if silently - berated himself. _Of course, they do, Moron!_

"It is being done. They is being ready tonight."

"Thank you, Marli. We'll be here Saturday."

"You is thanking Marli?"

_Oh, no!_ Harry thought in horror. Dobby had gotten used to being thanked and Harry had forgotten how the excitable elf had acted at first. He was _not_ looking forward to going through that again. He nodded abruptly, quickly deciding to see if he could nip this in the bud - so to speak. "I always thank someone for helping me," he replied softly.

"Oh!" Marli cried, tears welling up in her large, wide eyes. "You is being so much like Mistress Lily."

Harry gasped. That was the first time anyone had compared him to his mother instead of his father - beyond the color of his eyes. It made him feel good.

Swallowing heavily, he leaned closer, as if about to impart a great secret. "You might want to let all the other elves know, so they aren't surprised when it happens." Hopefully, that would head off the worst of the waterworks. He never had been comfortable with tears. He had no clue how to deal with them. He snorted silently. Hell, he didn't even know how to deal with his own the few times he'd allowed himself to cry in the last few years. Tears had always got him in trouble at the Dursleys'.

Marli giggled and nodded. "I's be passing that on to them. Is there anything else Master needs?"

"Yes," Harry replied formally, then smiled crookedly. "Please call me Harry."

Marli grinned. "I's being happy to call youse Master Harry."

Harry sighed sheepishly. It had been worth a shot, he supposed. It had taken Dobby almost a year, before he could call him anything shorter than 'Mister Harry Potter, Sir' - and _he_ was a free elf.

His friend was now, _finally_, merely calling him Sir Harry, like he was knight or something. That was okay, though. At least it denoted respect instead of ownership. He could live with that. As he stood, he did wonder just how long it would take the Potter elves to call him that. Maybe if he could get Dobby to come around often. With that elf's influence it wouldn't be nearly as long. Harry could only hope.

"We'll be here Saturday, I'm not sure when exactly. I'll send my owl with a more accurate time as soon as I know.

Marli was still happily nodding her agreement when Harry twisted his ring once again, muttering, "return," and the portkey swept him back to the 5th year dorm room. As the nauseating sensations swept him back to Hogwarts, he was busy trying to figure out just how to tell Malfoy that he was about to get kidnapped - for his own good. The moment he landed, stumbling, another thought occurred to him. Perhaps Malfoy _shouldn't_ be forewarned. His reactions would be far more real if he wasn't. He'd have to talk to Professor Snape first - see what that man had to say about the subject.

TBC  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review.

Muse1: Our ink is running dry. Please fill us up. : )  
Muse2: Yes, please. We're huuuunnngggry.

LOL


	5. Chapter 5

AN: My profound apologies for the delay in updating. I know there are no excuses good enough for those of you waiting on this. But they are there, nonetheless. I've kept two copies of my stories ever since I lost about two years worth of work several years ago. This time around, I let my daughter borrow my jump drive (one of my copies) and she, or the school comp, corrupted the jumpdrive. Not even 12 hours later, my computer (where the second set of copies was kept) died on me. Not only was this story, but about 20+ others - in various stages of completeness - were lost to me. (They're still there, I just can't get at them.)

Needless to say, reconstructing this from partially 'recovered' files, and from the snippets I'd hand written has been frustrating and depressing. It's been slow going. I'm still going to finish this, it's just going to continue to be slow going until I move passed the parts that I wrote and lost, fighting between trying to recapture what I loved about it the first time, and simply starting from scratch.

I hope you enjoy the final chapter in this episode. : )

**Previously on 'Going Grey':** _Under the fealty oath - taken to counteract possible betrayal at the urging of the 'Malfoy family curse' - Draco needs somewhere to go over the winter hols. Malfoy Sr. has been 'exposed' to Harry. And Harry and company intend to kidnap Draco to prevent his father from discovering he is no longer in control of his son - magically or legally. After having consulted with Professor Snape about their plans, Draco does NOT know what is planned for him._

Going Grey  
Episode 5  
Chapter 5

Harry slowly made his way up from the dungeons, his mind spinning with the expanded plans Snape had laid out for their 'cover up', his book bag filled with the last of the professor's unspecified polyjuice potion, and his ears ringing with the wizard's rant about overly complicated Gryffindor planning and demands that he be reimbursed for the ingredients used in the polyjuice. Harry planned to do the man one better and compensate him - at least a little - for the time he'd spent making it. He well remembered the time the complicated potion took to brew.

He just hoped he could remember the man's adjustments to his original plans until he managed to pass them on to Ron and Hermione. They were the planners. He was action guy. To his great relief, he ran into the both of them right outside the common room - with the addition of Ginny.

"Let's talk," he said taking all three in with a glance. He didn't give them a chance to reply, slipping through the portrait entrance the moment it opened to his password and strode straight up to the relative privacy of the boys' dorm. At this time of day, it was highly unlikely that anyone else would come up. Still, as the others settled onto one bed or the other, he cast several privacy charms before sitting down.

As quickly as he could, he passed on Snape's complications.

To his surprise, both Ron and Hermione were nodding, Ron's eyes lighting up. "I should have thought of that!" he muttered, doing so at several of Snape's 'suggestions'.

"So, we're going to need help. We need two more people."

"Neville," Ginny and Hermione immediately suggested together.

Both he and Ron nodded, accepting the choice easily. "Agreed," he replied. "Who else?" This was where he was having trouble. He could think of only two people he could trust enough for this. He said as much, then snorted. "Somehow, I _really_ can't see Snape willing to polyjuice into one of us, let alone do so convincingly."

"Personally, I can't see anyone surviving long after _asking_ him to," Hermione retorted drily.

The four of them froze a second, but soon, snickers - followed by all out laughter - rang out from the group as they pictured that particular scene.

"Oh, man," Harry gasped, the moment he could. "I think I'd pay to see that!"

"What about Luna?" Ginny asked.

Ron snorted earning him a glare - from both girls.

"She's trustworthy!" Ginny defended hotly.

"No one's doubting that, Ginny," Harry agreed softly.

"But do you really think Luna could actually pretend to be one of us?" Ron asked, snickering again.

Harry ignored his friend's derision for the moment. That could be dealt with later. "That was _my_ only concern as well.

Hermione shrugged. "There has to be a reason she was sorted into Ravenclaw," she offered.

Harry shrugged, shaking his head slightly. "I can't think of anyone else I trust enough with something like this," he admitted.

"Luna it is, then," Ron replied, as if that's all there was to it.

And Harry supposed it really was. Trust _was_ the most important issue at the moment. If nothing else, if she couldn't accurately portray one of them, they could always arrange to have people keep seeing her just as she passed around a corner . . . or something.

"One more thing: why aren't we including Malfoy in the planning?" Hermione asked pointedly, arching an eyebrow at him.

"We really don't dare be seen gathering with him the day before his abduction," Harry replied. "We can't afford for Draco's father to figure out that I'm the one that took his son. Most people probably wouldn't put it together; they don't know enough. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, already knows parts of the puzzle that no one else knows. That puts him in a prime position to actually put it all together." Harry snorted then. "Besides, we all know that Draco can't act for shit."

"Language, Harry!"

"Hey, Mate," Ron added, "you know I'm the last person to vote for including Malfoy in anything, but aren't we doing the same thing to him that you're so mad at Dumbledore for-

"Professor Dumbledore."

"-doing to you?"

"Only on the surface," Harry replied, shaking his head; though, he really didn't care for the comparison. It struck too close to the truth. "And the only reason I'm doing it this way is it won't work right with him in on the plan. If he doesn't want to do this when I talk to him afterward, then that's the end of it. We'll figure something else out." He shrugged. "Even so, we'll have bought him at least _some_ time."

"Alright then," Ron replied with a firm nod. "Now, we just need to get Neville and Luna on board."

"Room of Requirement?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded. "Yes. You go find Luna and get her up there in an hour, okay?"

Ginny nodded.

"Ron and Hermione, you two head up there shortly and get it set up. No one will question the two of you going off alone, not even up there."

Hermione frowned. "No one's going to think twice about us getting together at all," she objected. "We _are_ still friends, after all."

"Normally, sure," Harry readily agreed. "But don't you think that after our 'arch rival' disappears, the fact that the six of us - _The Ministry Six_ - were seen 'plotting' together might not be remembered?"

"Maybe," she allowed, frowning slightly, "but our visible presence at the time of the kidnapping will negate any suspicion. That's _why_ we're using the polyjuice in the first place."

"For the most part, yes," he admitted," but, as I said before, Lucius Malfoy knows too much. He already has reason to direct suspicion our way, my way - not to mention he's a suspicious bastard."

"Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione needed to learn to relax a little.

Hermione still looked doubtful.

"Maybe I'm just being overly paranoid," he allowed, "but personally, I'd rather that, than have it all blow up in our faces, leaving Draco out to hang - and us, for that matter." He was absolutely certain that there were going to be plenty of clues left behind, pointing a great neon sign their direction, as it was. They weren't exactly professionals - even with the professor's help. He didn't want to leave any behind that it was within their power to get rid of.

After a moment there were nods all around and the remaining reluctance to go to so much extra effort was gone - much to Harry's relief. Taking down the privacy spells, the four of them headed out of the dorm and down through the common room, talking of nothing more complicated than their 'holiday plans'.

Before they could split up outside the portrait to complete their separate tasks, Luna floated into view . . . literally. Her feet didn't touch the ground until she had reached them.

"Hello," she greeted brightly.

"How did you do that?" Hermione demanded excitedly before anyone else could say anything.

"My father sent me the spell for it," Luna replied, floating down until her feet were once again solidly on the floor. "And yes, I'll teach it to you. I can do it after we're done talking in the Come and Go room."

Hermione gaped.

Harry blinked.

"How'd you know we were going there?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"The wimblycorns told me," she replied airily as she turned away. "Oh, and Harry?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Yeah, Luna?"

"I think it might be fun to be you for a short time, but I don't believe I would enjoy it all the time." With that cryptic statement she skipped off down the hallway, calling out, 'later', as she disappeared around the corner.

A chorus of bemused, 'laters' followed after her.

"Am I losing my mind?" Hermione whispered a moment later, disrupting the sudden silence that had descended. "Or did Luna _really_ sound like she already knows what we're planning?"

"If you are, Hermione," Ginny whispered back, "you're not alone."

Harry just nodded, not quite knowing how to explain it either.

Ron, on the other hand, shook his head, snorting. "Personally, I'd go with both," he offered, " 'cuz that was seriously freaky."

Hermione smacked his arm as they all laughed, tension fading away.

Ginny grinned, turning to face Hermione. "Yeah. The real question is; does Luna see things no one else sees because she's crazy, or is she crazy _because_ she sees things no one else does?"

Hermione gaped, turning a horrified look on the still grinning red-head.

Ron and Harry, both, had to bite their lip as Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"If I have to start believing in wrackspurts, crumple horned snorkacks, and . . . and wimbly whatevers," she stated, voice deceptively soft, "I am _really_ not going to be happy with you!"

"Me!?" Ginny exclaimed in laughing disbelief. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one who suggested it," she replied huffily.

Harry snorted on a laugh he couldn't quite hold back and decided it was a really good time to disappear. "Later, guys," he called out as he darted off. He didn't miss the fact that Ginny was very quick to follow his lead, taking off after him. He shared a knowing smirk with her, neither of them very chuffed at the thought of being on Hermione's bad side. It wasn't a pretty place to be. It tended to really bring out the more . . . annoying traits of her younger self.

Just as they finally found Neville, Ginny stopped suddenly, frowning. "She'll forget about this?" she asked tentatively. "About my comment. Right?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know," he replied. "Probably." He wasn't so sure, however. Hermione had the tenacity of a bulldog when she put her mind to it. And, while she didn't _tend_ to hold grudges, anything that messed with the certainties of her knowledge. . . . Well, that was a whole new game.

"Real convincing," Ginny retorted drily, rolling her eyes.

"Look," Harry said, chuckling, "long before Hermione starts believing in things she can't see, taste, feel, or at least _verify_, something else is bound to distract her. I think you're safe."

"Good point," she admitted with a small giggle. "See ya later."

"Later," Harry replied to her back, then turned and headed toward Neville.

x-x-x

Harry nervously trailed off as he finished his edited explanation.

Neville leveled a narrow-eyed gaze at him that bordered on an actual glare. "So, you trust us enough to be polyjuiced alibis for you," he accused, "but not enough to tell us what it is you're doing that you need an alibi for. Is that about right?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, horrified that Neville thought that, and rushed to reassure his friend. "I can't tell you the whole story, because it's not all mine to tell," he said quickly. "and I can't just tell you part of it, because-" Harry broke off, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, frankly, taken out of context, knowing only part of it sounds really bad."

Oh, yes! He could just picture telling them they needed alibis in order to kidnap Draco . . . their 'arch rival'. How could they _not_ put a bad spin on that?

"Will this thing that 'sounds bad' get anyone hurt?"

Harry shook his head. "It shouldn't. In fact, we're doing it to protect someone."

"Is it illegal?"

"No," Harry replied firmly, then hesitated, "but it'll look like it." Taking a deep breath, he continued, despite the fact that this would be very much harder to pull off successfully without their help. "I'll understand if you feel you can't help without knowing everything. If this goes pear shaped, we can't admit to the real reason we're doing it, so we'll get into big trouble. Not just trouble with the headmaster, but trouble with the ministry as well."

"Expelled at the least," Hermione added, "prison at the worst."

Neville froze, his eyes widening. After a moment, he shared a single look with Luna, who nodded. "We trust you, Harry. We're in," he informed him firmly. "I just . . . had to be sure," he continued, sounding apologetic.

Harry grinned, very relieved. "Of course you did, Neville," he replied. "I certainly don't want my friends to be mindless followers who do everything I ask without question."

Luna giggled, drawing everyone's attention. "Good thing, Harry, because otherwise you really chose the wrong friends."

They all laughed at that, acknowledging that the group of them were among the most stubborn witches and wizards at the school. His two best friends were especially bad at keeping their protests or questions to themselves. Neither Ginny, nor Luna, were exactly 'yes women' themselves, both very forthright in their opinions - in very different ways. Neville, himself, had a well hidden backbone that came out when his sense of right and wrong was challenged - even if that meant pitting himself against his friends.

That out of the way, all six friends settled down to an indepth discussion of specifics and logistics, which lasted until dinner.

x-x-x

Draco sat pensively at the Slytherin table, his expression a neutral mask. His breakfast was cold and untouched in front of him, however, a telling clue to his true state of mind to anyone who cared to look. This was the last meal before Yule break. Everyone who was supposed to go home was packed and ready to go, and he _still_ didn't have a single clue about Potter's so-called _plan_. Every attempt he'd made in the last three days to corner the prat and demand answers had met with failure. The bloody prat always managed to slip away at the last second.

Four days ago was the last time he'd talked to Potter and the memory of _that_ conversation was just plain infuriating.

x-x-x Flashback x-x-x

"Don't worry, Draco," Potter assured. "We have a working plan."

Draco waited, but the blasted prat didn't continue, didn't tell him what the plan actually was. "Well?" he demanded impatiently, frowning tightly. "What is it, and who helped you come up with it?" Gryffindor plans - as much of an oxymoron as that was - had a terrible habit of going balls up at the worst possible moment and he wasn't comfortable simply going with the flow, as it were.

"It's better for all concerned that you don't know about it just yet, Draco," Potter replied, not meeting his eyes.

That _really_ worried him . . . a lot! _Translation_ he thought sourly, _you're not going to like it, so, I'm not going to tell you what it is until it's too late to change anything!_

"When then?" he demanded firmly, arms folded across his chest.

"The day we leave."

_I knew it!_

x-x-x End Flashback x-x-x

Draco glared across the great hall at Potter, feeling entirely safe in doing so, since it was utterly in character for him to do so. Suspicion began rearing its ugly head, fear worming its way deep inside him. Did Potter truly _have_ a plan, or was he stringing Draco along? Swallowing hard against the lump of queasy fear that settled like lead in his stomach, Draco's glare intensified.

The moment of trio of Gryffindors rose, Draco pushed his plate away and rose. He was going to get answers and he was going to get them now!

Greg and Vince rose a moment after he did.

"Stay," he ordered sharply, and like obedient puppies that sat back down and returned their attention to their food.

Rolling his eyes, he hurried out of the room. He was not going to let the bloody prat slip away again.

_Like now,_ he thought venomously as he stepped into the entrance hall. There was absolutely no trace of the three Griffs, just Loony Lovegood, and she was headed his direction.

"Lovegood!" he called out, striding toward the squirrelly Ravenclaw.

The girl stopped, her eyes as wide and unfocused as ever. "Yes?" she asked, sounding . . . absent.

Draco shivered in reaction. Loony Lovegood had _always_ freaked him out. If a person who'd been kissed could still walk and talk, _this_ was exactly what he pictured them acting like!

"Did you see Potter just now?" he demanded, the unease he couldn't quite push away making his words sharper than he'd intended.

"Yes," she replied. "Was that all you wanted?" she continued.

Draco just barely stopped himself from growling at the ditz. She had, technically, answered his question, after all. "And where did he go?" he asked with as much patience as he could muster. Unfortunately, even he had to admit that he was not the most patient person in the world - especially when he was . . . anxious.

"Oh. He went outside," she replied airily. "He said something about the squid."

"Thank you," he told her through clenched jaw, immediately heading for the door. Her voice trailed after him, however, causing a hitch in his step.

"You really should take care of that wrackspurt infestation. They interfere with clear thinking."

_Wrackspurts?_ He stopped at the ridiculous statement, automatically turning to give a scathing retort, then shook himself, and continued outside. Luna's oddities weren't important right now. He had other things to worry about. Potter was _not_ getting away from him this time. It was now 'the day we leave' and he _would_ pin the prat down and demand answers.

Unfortunately, once outside, the prat was still nowhere in sight. The bloody Gryffindor was nowhere to been seen, no matter where Draco looked. He slumped, only just blinking away the sting of tears, a sense of abandonment sweeping through him. _I should have known better than to trust a __**Gryffindor**__,_ he thought angrily. The only person he could trust was himself! He'd known that for years.

Huffing, Draco turned toward the lake. He had to figure out what he was going to do now. Thoughts whirling, he realized it was a forgone conclusion that his father would now discover the fact that he was no longer head of line to his own son. When the wizard attempted full magical disownment for blatant disobedience. When Lucius Malfoy did something, he never used half-measures. Of course, basic disownment would follow the man's inability to completely erase his existence from those of Malfoy blood.

He gulped, trying to force down nausea, the very finality of the thought numbing him, allowing him to shove what he had no hope of changing to the back of his mind and to concentrate on what he _could_ change.

He would have to go to Gringotts first, withdrawing as many galleons as the accounts would allow him to. That amount certainly wouldn't allow for luxurious living - by anyone's standards - but it would keep him fed and housed. Thankfully, this year's tuition had already been paid. He only had next year to worry about. That covered, he now only had to worry about _where_. His father wouldn't be easy to successfully-

A flicker of movement where there shouldn't by any effectively drew his attention from his frantic thoughts. He gasped, eyes widening in horror as three, slightly blurred, figures in dark, hooded cloaks appeared less than 20 meters from him.

Whipping his wand out as he turned, Draco ran. _Deatheaters!_ echoed through his mind, spurring him faster.

"Stupify!"

Heart leaping into his throat, Draco dodged the red spell light, returning fire as he pelted toward the castle.

"Help!" he shouted, really hoping - with the corner of his mind that was _not_ gibbering in panic - that he didn't sound as scared as he felt. He topped the rise, sighting a group of students running toward him.

_Potter!_

Relief flooded him, making him stagger.

"Intruders!" he shouted as loud as he could.

Three gravelly voices sounded behind him, and before he could react, their spells struck him square in his back. He flew forward, his world going black before he hit the ground.

x-x-x

Strolling slowly toward the front doors, Neville swallowed nervously and fought the urge to fidget as they waited for the signal to run for a professor. According to Harry, who was currently being impersonated by Luna surprisingly well, it would be obvious when the time was right. _He_ wasn't so sure it would be. Hoping he didn't let Harry down, Neville was _really_ glad that the three people most likely to figure out that the Harry, Ron, and Hermione who were present weren't the real ones, were the people impersonating them. He didn't think he made a very convincing Ron, and if he had to worry about fooling those closest to Ron, he knew he would foul things up completely.

Neville nearly snorted at that, because that wasn't even the worst of his fears. If he wasn't careful, he knew he was going to do something incredibly stupid and accidently humiliate Ron so badly that the other Gryffindor would _never_ forgive him. He didn't have that many friends that he could afford to alienate any of them simply because of his own clumsy stupidity.

Just as they stepped outside, Neville jumped as a touch on his arm nearly startled him into a yelp. He swallowed the sound and turned to face an apologetic looking Harry. Oddly enough, he could _see_ Luna shining out from behind Harry's green eyes. It was . . . disconcerting - to say the least - and he really didn't understand why no one else seemed to have noticed. It seemed so very obvious to him.

"Sorry, Ron," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He shrugged. "S'alright, Harry. What's up?" he asked, more than half his attention on the unknown signal, rather than Luna.

"What do you think-"

A high pitched yelp rang out across the grounds and everyone around him jumped. Neville, heart in his throat, was moving toward the sound before his stomach had returned to its proper position. Even so, Luna was several paces in front of him.

_Is this it?_

That thought was followed seconds later by another shout.

"Intruders!"

Neville blinked in shock. That had sounded like Malfoy. Surely the Slytherin wouldn't be involved in Harry's plan. After a moment's thought, he decided not, but didn't stop moving. Malfoy had sounded really scared - not like the prat's fake cries when he was pulling a nasty prank. Not even a moment later, he was vindicated as he lay eyes on Malfoy running toward them, but he wished he hadn't been. Three people in cloaks and hoods were behind the Slytherin.

Neville, Ginny, and Luna skid to a halt and watched as Malfoy was struck from behind by three stunners.

Malfoy hit the ground and didn't move.

Growling, Neville whipped up his wand. "Expelliarmus!" he cried out, Luna's disarming charm and Ginny's blasting curse followed closely after.

Unfortunately, all three spells passed through thin air, as the three intruders vanished, taking Malfoy with them. Neville was stunned. Who would want to kidnap Malfoy? It didn't make any sense. And, if there wasn't another 'professor worthy signal soon', Neville was _definitely_ going to be having a talk with Harry when this was all over!

"Hermione, Ron," "Harry" said, loudly enough to be heard by those around them, "go get a professor."

Neville frowned. Something had been off about the three intruders. He just couldn't quite put his finger on what. If he could just-

"Ron!"

Neville jumped, torn from his thoughts by the shout and a touch on his arm. He turned, only to find 'Hermione' staring at him impatiently.

_Oh! Right!_ He was Ron. "You really think this is it?" he whispered.

Luna nodded. "Go get a professor, quickly."

Nodding once, Neville ran back toward the castle, Ginny - as Hermione - keeping pace beside him. If this was it, he thought, then those three 'intruders' had been Harry, Ron, and Hermione. That would certainly explain what was 'off' about them. They had been weirdly familiar. Shaking himself free from those thoughts - his questions could be answered later - he returned his attention to his mission. In their 'search for a professor', they were to head in the direction of the tower. The real Ron and Hermione would meet them and they would switch places. Those two would be the ones to actually get a professor.

Thankfullly, the hallway was empty when he and Ginny arrived, allowing Ron and Hermione to immediately appear from the shadows they'd hidden in under a disallusionment charm.

Hermione was the first to step forward. "Hurry back outside the moment you've polyjuiced back into yourselves," she whispered and took off back the way he and Ginny had just come. Ron was right behind her.

Sighing in relief, Neville took out his last vial of polyjuice and raised it to Ginny in a mock toast. "Last time," he said and quickly downed the vile concoction. Gagging as he tried to keep it down, Neville swore that if he never took polyjuice again, it would _still_ be too soon. He, Ginny, and Luna had taken it four times today, switching back and forth between the person they were impersonating and themselves.

End of Episode 5  
Series 'Going Grey'  
Kiristeen ke Alaya  
Feedback: is the ink with which I write! Please review. 


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